Perfect World
by D-chan
Summary: mainly Homura x Goku :: AUish, strong language, yaoi, lime, violence :: In which Sanzo is not Goku's savior, and the consequences that follow. [COMPLETE]
1. Chapter One

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: G

Pairings: none

Warnings: AU-ish, angst

Beta-read by: Iapetus, Selina

Notes: And finally, the release of an epic I've been working on since March. This will be, by far, my longest fanfic, and thus my longest Saiyuki fic. As I type this message I have 25 chapters and over 96,000 words of it written so far.

This will be updated every weekend (hopefully on Saturdays), no sooner and hopefully no later, depending on how school (and Driver's Ed.) goes. Eventually, as far as I know, the pairings that will appear are eventual Homura/Goku, past Homura/Rinrei, some Gojyo/Hakkai, and hints of Gojyo-Sanzo flirtation. There are also discussions of Sanzo/Goku, but this fic will most likely not have that pairing. There might be hintings of it near the end, but I'm not positive.

Estimated amount of chapters at this point is between 30 and 35. The ratings will be upped as the story progreses, and by chapter six this will be rated R (due to language). There will be NC-17 chapters from chapter 12 onward, but they **_will not_** be on FFN. You may find those chapters at my adult fanfictions, which have been linked in my profile. Chapters 12 and onward have the potential to be R-rated due to lime and violence.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter One_

It was just as he'd expected it to be. The mountain was tall and rocky, making the climb seem very difficult. And what he wanted was at the top where no one would think to go; either because it was too insanely high or because it was too insanely dangerous... or likely even both.

Luckily, that wasn't a problem for him.

He turned to his companions, his voice calm and rational. "I want you two to wait here. You ought to know why, I believe."

One seemed ready to protest; he always did when he wasn't completely cool with an idea. It never annoyed him. In fact, it simply amused him, especially since he knew exactly what would follow. As expected, the third man held up a hand, effectively cutting off any arguments early. "Understood," Shien said softly, not once opening his eyes. "And if anyone should try to pass through?"

He gave a slight shrug. "Do what you want. Just make sure I'm not interrupted."

Zenon gave them both a distasteful look, but he eventually nodded and settled back, flicking at his gun. "Yeah, yeah..."

With a confident smirk, Homura turned and started up the mountain.

------

_So cold..._

It wasn't literally cold, at least not now. From what he could tell by sight and sense it was actually late spring. Soon it would be summer and the sun would shine down more, giving him only minimal comfort and solace. Something about the sun always did that. He hated winter because the warm rays would leave him, and for some reason it made his heart ache horribly.

He wasn't sure where this fascination with the sun came from. After all, it blinded him when he tried to look at it, burned him when it seemed angry with him, and left him when it grew bored. But that didn't change that he loved it and needed it... even if it wasn't _the_ Sun he wanted. The Sun would always be there at his side, only leaving him under critical circumstances. That was what he knew instinctively. Sometimes he wondered if he had been locked up all this time simply to wait for his Sun to free him.

If that was the case, he sure was taking his sweet time.

The little boy made a small noise, bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his arms. It was the same thing every day; watch the sun, listen to distant animals, and wait. Wait for his Sun. Sleep at night when he could, stare at the moon and stars when he couldn't. Try to dredge up any memories of his past and fail continuously, despite his honest efforts. Live through every day without any companionship or friends.

He couldn't even remember having friends, but he knew he had to have at some point. Why else would he desire it so badly? You only really craved for something once you'd have a taste of it and then lost it. He didn't even know how he knew that, only that it was true.

Curling his fingers around his arms, the boy shifted a bit against the rock. It wasn't uncomfortable, not anymore. At first it had been, during his first few years in here. Over time, though, he'd managed to get used to sharp rocks digging into his skin. Some places were even worn smooth because he was always sitting or laying there.

_How long... have I been like this...?_

He bit his lip, trying not to cry. He hated crying, hadn't cried since his last companion had died. The yellow canary... it had visited him every day, flying so far up toward the heavens just to visit him. That had been his only comfort for a while, and for a few days he had something to look forward to.

Then one morning he'd woken up to find his friend dead... and he remembered the agonizing pain ripping through his heart as he'd tried to reach out, trying to touch his friend, if only to cradle his body and mourn it properly. He would have dug a grave for it if he'd been able to, even of his prison _was_ entirely made of rocks. Sheer determination would have driven him to tear away at the stone with his bare hands until they bled, so he could form some sort of gravesite.

But he hadn't been able to reach. His fingers had fallen short mere centimeters from the small, lifeless body. He'd been close enough to sense the last of the warmth seeping from the bird's body, but not enough to touch.

It hurt.

He didn't want to be alone anymore. It hurt too much. He wanted out...

The sun seemed to be setting already, or a cloud had rolled over it, because a shadow fell over him. He clenched his eyes shut tighter, not wanting to look up. Seeing the sun leave was far worse than almost anything else.

_Someone please help me..._

"As I thought."

The sudden voice made him start, his head jerking up so fast the boy nearly received whiplash. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust; the sun had _not_ set, and he realized that there were no clouds. The shadow was that of a man's, a human figure, and he was standing in front of the cave with the oddest expression on his face. He almost got the feeling this stranger was thinking he had uncovered a great treasure in this isolated cave.

Once his eyes adjusted the boy could make out features; thin black eyebrows, one arched in a faintly amused look, ebony hair that looked as though he'd run his hand through it then left it alone, pale skin that was nearly blinding to look at in the direct light of the sun...

And, most peculiar and fascinating of all, two different colored eyes, one blue and one gold. He felt awed by the sight.

The man bent down on one knee as the boy crawled forward, watching intently. He said nothing when the child slowly reached through the rocky prison bars, trembling fingers grazing over a wide hand. The boy stared, transfixed, not moving his hand as he allowed the warmth of another living, breathing body to seep into him.

"You're real," he whispered hoarsely.

The man didn't laugh at him as the boy half expected him to; he simply smirked and said, "Yes. I am."

The boy finally tore his eyes away from the obviously solid hand, looking up at the man. "Are... you here to free me?" he asked hesitantly, afraid to hear the answer.

The man tilted his head a bit. "That all depends. But before we talk about that, introductions are necessary. My name is Homura. Why don't you tell me your name?"

"Goku," he said without hesitation. He may have had his memories erased, but he could remember his name perfectly well. "Son Goku. Who..." He trailed off, but Homura filled in the silence for him.

"Well then, Son Goku. I am a god."

Goku's eyes widened. "A... god..." Somehow the words triggered something nestled deep inside him. It felt like something wiggling just below the surface of his memories, but seconds later it faded away. He shook his head a bit, trying to grasp the man's hand. "You... you can get me out?"

"I'll let you out," Homura said quietly, not discouraging the touch or taking his eyes off the boy. Goku brightened as his heart began to pound painfully in his chest. Would he finally be free? After so long? He nearly deflated at the man's next words. "For a price."

He cringed. "A... price?"

The corner of Homura's mouth curled up. "It's simply something you'll have to decide if you want to partake in or not. I'm telling you just as much for you as I am for me." Goku blinked, not understanding, and Homura went on. "I _could_ just make you promise to do anything for me in return for your freedom, but I'm going to give you a choice. If you don't like it, I'll leave and perhaps someone else will come to free you."

He didn't have to say that it seemed unlikely; Goku already knew. The thought made him cringe. "W... what's the price...?"

Homura stood up then, pulling away from the boy and walking over to the ledge just beyond the cave, peering out. He seemed to be contemplating... or searching for something. Seeming satisfied, he looked back at Goku, his voice calm. "It's rather simple, really. I want to create a new world in which there are no gods. It will be a perfect world."

He paused as though waiting for a response; when Goku said nothing he continued. "To do this I need two things called scriptures... specifically, the Seiten and Maten scriptures. I also need you to help me... both in creating the new world and in retrieving the sutras." He fixed Goku in place with his stare; though he was fairly certain he'd never seen this man before, Goku got the odd feeling that the sudden soft tone and solemn expression was unusual... and carried something very sad.

He shook his head, the heel of his hands coming up to press into his temples. "I..." Why did this man seem to be such a huge trigger? Shaking his head violently, Goku curled up a bit on the ground. Homura's eyes seemed to be piercing him, making him feel uncomfortable and exposed.

Even so... somehow he felt he could trust him. Maybe it was how he seemed so fair in everything he'd said and done, or maybe because his presence was just as soothing as it was discomforting.

This man wasn't his Sun; he knew that instinctively. But just how much longer could Goku wait for his Sun? Could he go another few hundred years waiting for a Sun that may never come?

Could he go back to that horrible aching loneliness for so long?

Hands falling from his head, Goku looked up at the man. Homura stared back, calm and unmoving, waiting for his decision. Finally, Goku whispered, "Will it be hard?"

"Possibly," Homura admitted. "It will certainly take a couple more years for me to work out the finer details."

"Then... why come to me now?"

The solemn expression cracked for a moment as Homura smirked again. "That," he said coolly, "is something I can't tell you the reason to. Not entirely. Not yet." He strode back to the cave, kneeling down again so that he was at eye level with the boy. "However, it will speed up the process by quite a few years," he said quietly. "Without your strength, Son Goku, achieving this dream would take far longer. I grow impatient after hundreds of years waiting. I'm sure you can understand that."

With a start, Goku realized that he could relate to that feeling perfectly. Homura wanted to create the perfect world as soon as he could, and Goku wanted his freedom granted as soon as someone came along that could do just that.

And Homura was offering him, and all he wanted in exchange was some help...

Goku grasped at the rocky bars. "I want it," he said, voice barely above a whisper. He dimly realized he was trembling. "I want out... I'll help you. I'll do whatever I can. I..." He swallowed, unable to finish without fear of possibly crying. _I just don't want to be alone anymore..._

Homura gave what seemed to be a reluctant sigh, but no; Goku must have heard wrong. He was just tense, wishing to be free so desperately that he was misinterpreting things. He was certain it was just that when Homura smirked again, reaching one shackled hand to the boy.

"As you wish," he said simply.

Goku reached out, a faint part of him telling him to stop, that he shouldn't be freed by anyone that he knew wasn't his Sun, but another, much more lonely part insisted that this man was trustworthy. He _had_ to be; he seemed far too sincere to seem otherwise.

He was offering freedom... and, in an indirect way, companionship. Goku _needed_ that.

Homura clasped his hand firmly once Goku's fingers brushed across his palm. The sheer force of his grip made Goku wince a bit, but it didn't seem like Homura was trying to hurt him. The man closed his eyes briefly, murmuring something Goku couldn't quite hear... and he doubted he would have understood anyway.

Just like that, Goku's chains snapped. The sudden sound made him look down, watching as his ankle chains also broke, releasing him from the deadweight barbells on the ground. Then the rock bars crumbled into a fine powder, causing Goku to flinch and pull back, coughing as dust got in his mouth and lungs. Homura didn't release him all the while, waiting until the boy was done coughing before pulling him out of the cave and to his feet. Goku felt a bit shaky, but he could stand and hadn't forgotten how to walk. He stared at his feet for a moment, taking a couple wobbly steps forward, but he found his balance quickly, and soon enough it was as natural as breathing.

He looked up at Homura, who was still holding his hand. "Thank you," was all he managed to say, and awkwardly at that.

Homura smirked, finally releasing him. "No thanks are needed." He gave Goku a level gaze. "I need you to realize one other thing that I forgot." Goku gave him a sharp look, wondering if he really _had_ forgotten, or if it was just something he was going to force on the boy once he had his word to help him. "I have two other companions. I will not force you to, but it would be good if you could at least form a decent relationship with them. Arguments amongst allies are one of the first faults in most armies."

Goku took a moment to let that sink in. He decided that he could deal with two others, though a part of him felt hurt, as though Homura was saying he wouldn't be offering his full-time companionship as Goku had originally believed. Then again, he hadn't really said anything... "We're an army?" he asked slowly.

"Something like it," Homura agreed. "Do you feel steady enough to walk now?" Goku nodded. "Good. Let's go; you may ask more questions on the way down." With that he brushed past the boy, his cape billowing a bit behind him. Goku eyed the red-stitched flames with interest before starting after his keeper.

"If we're gonna be an army, does that mean I gotta fight?" he asked.

"It would be a good idea," Homura replied, glancing back briefly. "I have strong confidence in the fact you should have commendable skills as a fighter, and it would be good for you to at least learn to defend yourself."

"Oh..." Goku stumbled a bit over a rock beneath his foot, but he managed to stay upright. "Why d'you say that? I can fight? How do you know?"

Homura chuckled softly. "Let's just say I know more about you than you probably do."

Those words made Goku freeze. Homura seemed to notice, because he also paused and turned to face the boy. "You... know about my past?" Goku asked, soft and uncertain.

After the first few moments of silence Goku thought Homura wasn't going to answer. The man just stared at him, looking as though he were measuring the boy up. He frowned a bit, eyes going distant for a moment as he seemed to be seriously contemplating, before he finally answered. "I think that should be something for me to reveal to you slowly."

"Why?"

"It's necessary," was all Homura would say. Sensing the note of finality, Goku reluctantly nodded and they began walking again.

It wasn't the best way to go; Goku felt stumbling over the random rocks and little crevices. It really hurt, too, when his toes caught in a crack on the ground. After wondering why Homura didn't seem to have the same problem, he looked down and noted that the man had something covering his feet. "Hey, Homura--" He paused as he nearly tripped over yet another stone, cringing. "What d'you got on your feet? Is that why you can walk good?"

Homura looked back, seeming surprised, before he noticed what was going on. "And I thought you were simply clumsy from not walking for so long," he murmured, so quietly that Goku barely caught the words. In a louder tone, he said, "They're shoes. They do keep the ground from hurting my feet; yes... we'll see what we can do about getting you some once we're off the mountain."

"Okay--" Goku made a small yelp as he stumbled, this time unable to catch his balance. Luckily, since Homura was facing him, he noticed and moved quickly, catching the boy before his face met the ground. Goku blinked in surprise, looking up. _He's fast... I couldn't even see! One minute he was there and now..._

"Just try to be careful until we reach the bottom," Homura advised, helping him stand upright again and releasing him.

Flinching a bit, and feeling embarrassed for seeming so weak, Goku mumbled an okay. He fidgeted a moment, trying to hold back the sudden onslaught of questions, but curiosity got the better of him even before Homura started to move on. "Homura... where are we going?" he blurted. "Where are we going to live? Are the gods mad at you? Did they kick you out? Why do you want this new world? Is there food where we're going? Will the others like me? How long will it take us? It better not be long because my feet really hurt!"

Homura didn't once interrupt him, literally humoring him as he began to laugh at the boy's last outburst. Goku flushed a bit, wondering if he seemed that stupid, but Homura shook his head and said in a clearly amused tone, "You ask more questions than anyone I've ever known. I'll tell you this; you haven't changed at all in that respect." Goku's heart seemed to stop a moment; he'd just been told something about his past. It was probably insignificant, but it gave him an amazingly strong sense of comfort to know that time and isolation hadn't changed whoever he had been before. At least, not all of it.

Homura shook his head again, reaching out and tousling the boy's hair a bit roughly. Goku winced but didn't move back, quietly enjoying the physical contact and reveling in it. It was different, somehow, than when Homura had helped him up, perhaps because this movement seemed to clearly portray a sort of fondness.

_He likes me,_ the boy realized. _He must have known me before... and he doesn't seem to hate me at all!_ He offered a hesitant smile to the man, and Homura seemed to soften a bit.

"It won't take us too long. It's certainly easier going down than it is going up, so we'll probably reach the bottom in an hour or two," Homura said, drawing his hand back without changing his expression. "And don't worry; I intend to make sure you are properly fed and clothed before we do anything about the scriptures or your training."

Goku relaxed a bit, his smile becoming easy. "Okay," he agreed with a nod. "But I hope you got a lotta food! I'm _really_ hungry!"

Nodding, Homura moved on so they could continue their descent. "Just try to be patient." Goku made a face at the words, but nodded anyway. _I waited to be rescued for so long... I guess one more hour for food can't hurt..._

It didn't occur to him at first to ask why Homura couldn't just do some godlike trick and magic them down the mountain. The idea started to nag at him once his calves started to burn, likely from lack of exercise, and his breathing became shorter. He had to scramble after the man several times, not because Homura went too fast, but simply because Goku realized that despite the man's slow pace he was still getting ahead.

He couldn't continue like that forever, though. "Homura," he whined, pausing to slump over one of the larger rocks. "We gotta stop..."

The god didn't even argue; he nodded. "Yes, you're tired. You are not used to such exercise. Go ahead and sit down." Grateful, Goku slid to the ground, closing his eyes for a few moments. _It's warm..._

It _was_ warm, literally; the sun was starting to set, and the air would become cool soon, but for the moment it was pleasantly warm. Goku opened his eyes a bit, squinting at the setting sun. _Nice..._

"Hey, Homura," he said softly, closing his eyes and trying to appear relaxed, even though inside he was tense. "D'you think... anyone would have come for me if I hadn't said yes?"

When he cracked an eye open Homura was seated on a rock near him, peering down at him with an eyebrow raised. "Are you regretting the agreement, Son Goku?"

The boy shook his head vehemently. "No!" He paused, doing a double-take, before saying in a more embarrassed tone, "I mean... no. I was just... wondering." _Because I'm free, and I guess I have a companion, but I don't feel complete,_ he added silently. He half wanted to say them but was far too worried that Homura would be disgusted and take him back. After all he was a god, and a god must have been the one to seal him in the first place, right?

Homura appeared to take his question seriously. "Eventually," he finally said carefully. "I can't tell you who or when, but eventually I believe _someone_ else would have found you." He got back to his feet. "You've rested enough, haven't you? Let's go."

Goku wanted to protest, but he found that when he got up the burning in his legs wasn't nearly as intense; almost gone, even. He quickly hurried after the man. "Homura! Wait up!"

Overall it took nearly an hour and a half for them to descend completely, and that was with breaks to pause and allow Goku to get his breath back and rest his aching legs. By then it was getting very dark, to the point Goku could pretty much only see things in blues and grays. He squinted in the dark; eyes scanning the trees around him as he slowly took in and savored his freedom.

"Son Goku." Homura's voice made him snap to attention, but what he saw hadn't been what he'd been expecting. He stared at the two men with his savior. One was a slight but noticeable bit taller than Homura, his hair wild and spiked. His clothes somehow conjured the image of an army in Goku's mind; the machine gun resting on his shoulder helped that image. The other man seemed older than the last two, but he still obviously wasn't the leader; he didn't radiate enough charisma for it. He was dressed in a simpler fashion, and even in the light Goku realized he wouldn't be able to see his eyes, as they were closed. That man made him the most uncomfortable.

"This is Zenon," Homura said, gesturing to the man with the machine gun. He nodded curtly to Goku, and Goku nodded back, feeling strangely small. "And this is Shien." Shien said nothing, eyes still not opening, but Goku got the disturbing feeling he was scrutinizing the boy anyway.

Goku realized Homura was expecting a response. He shook his head, gathering his bearings before he grinned. "Hi."

Homura seemed satisfied with that, even if Zenon made a small rude noise and glanced away. "So we're done, then?" Zenon asked gruffly.

"Yes, we can go," Homura agreed, gesturing for Goku to come forward. The boy obeyed, trying not to let Shien's unseeing eyes unnerve him further. "We're going to travel in a bit of a different way this time," the man explained patiently. "So hold on to something." Goku opted for the man's cape, deeming it safest, and Homura had no objections. "This may feel a bit strange the first few times, but you'll get used to it eventually."

"What is it?" Goku asked curiously.

Homura smirked, nodding once to the other two. Without so much as a word, Zenon and Shien abruptly disappeared, causing Goku's eyes to widen. "It's a bit like teleportation," Homura said.

"Oh... hey!" Goku cried indignantly. "Why couldn't we use that to get down the mountain, then? My feet really hurt y'know!"

Voice colored with amusement, Homura simply said, "I think you'll figure that out yourself someday. I suggest you keep your mouth shut the first time." And then, without warning, he abruptly vanished, taking Goku with him.


	2. Chapter Two

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Gojyo/Hakkai, drunken Gojyo/Sanzo

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, yaoi, mild adult situations

Beta-read by: Iapetus, Selina

Notes: First off, thank you muchly to anyone who has dropped a review. The encouragements so far are very inspiring, and I'm always happy to receive them. Just don't forget that I still also appreciate constructive criticism as well. Also lots of thanks to my beta-readers, without whom I wouldn't be able to update every weekend.

As you can see, the rating has already been bumped up to PG-13. (Thanks a lot, Gojyo.) Each chapter has its own rating depending on the content, and starting from the 6th chapter the rating is expected to be upped another notch. Just a reminder to anyone who's curious.

And again, since I can never say this enough: constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Two_

Annoying how things could work out in both the most convenient yet inconvenient ways. That was what the priest Genjo Sanzo thought in disgust as he wrote up his report after catching the notorious criminal, Cho Gonou. That assignment had been a true pain in the ass, one of the most difficult and irritating ones yet.

_First,_ he thought irritably, pen not once stopping even as he ranted inwardly. _That half-breed bastard decided to have fun showing off his damned Lying Down techniques._ He'd been efficient, that was for sure, and that was also what irked Sanzo the most. _Then the second I countered Cho Gonou he thought he'd show off and use _my_ gun against me, then run off with it._ That was the first time Sanzo had ever thought it would have been useful to have some sort of companion with him, someone to stop Gonou before he'd gotten away.

It worked out in the end; at least for Sanzo it had. He'd been able to capture Cho Gonou, even if it had taken longer and become messier than he'd have wanted.

However, it "working out" for Gonou had been a completely different story.

"Ack! Watch it!"

"Excuse me, Gojyo. I'm not quite used to this."

There was a tense, uneasy pause after that. The voices were muffled outside Sanzo's door, but he could still hear the first voice mutter in an apologetic tone, "Sorry, man. My bad..."

The door slid open just after that. Sanzo didn't have to look up to see who it was; he knew he'd be greeted with the sight of an obnoxious redhead and a man who would bear a striking resemblance Cho Gonou. This was because he was Cho Gonou... or rather, had been.

"What do you want?" Sanzo muttered in annoyance, continuing to write his report. "Don't you two have anything better to do than annoy me?"

"Never," the redhead drawled, though he didn't move right to Sanzo's desk as he normally would have. Sanzo glanced up, finally noting why. He lingered near the man that was previously Gonou, now known as Hakkai, and for good reason.

Rolling his eyes up to the ceiling, Sanzo muttered, "It would be a lot easier if you just used the damned walking stick, wouldn't it?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw Hakkai smiling. "Gojyo and I think we've found a way around that."

"Well, _he_ found a way around it," Gojyo amended. "It just started happening the other day, no explanation why--"

"Just watch," Hakkai said calmly. Sanzo scoffed but focused on the man anyway. Hakkai's eyes were open but unseeing, unfocussed and literally glassy. It didn't unnerve Sanzo much anymore, but he'd still think about how creepy it seemed at times. He'd only gotten a glimpse of the man's eyes when they were still intact, right before he had run off with his gun, into the forest only to be confronted by a figurative demon from his recent past. Even after the fact, Sanzo still hadn't brought himself to forgive Gojyo for nearly sabotaging his mission. When he'd realized Gonou was escaping, Sanzo had finally thrown Gojyo off.

Unfortunately, Gojyo had only made things even more difficult, which was why they had arrived so late.

Sanzo and Gojyo had come just in time to see Gonou dig his fingers into his other eye, shoving it out and making his face quite the bloody mess. From what Sanzo could gather afterward, a young man from Gonou's village had approached him about Gonou's mass murder of an entire human village, furious at what he'd done. In a twisted, hasty form of repentance, Gonou had offered his right eye, and then his left. The damage had been done before Sanzo or Gojyo could catch up, and now he was blind in both eyes. What seemed like eyes were now really just intricately, carefully painted glass.

Blinking, Sanzo was startled to see Hakkai moving about. Normally he would use a walking stick, though it must have been humiliating at first. Sanzo's gaze flickered to Gojyo's black eye, a gift from an impatient Hakkai after being badgered too much. Obviously, Hakkai wasn't one to be reckoned with, especially when crippled.

Still, he was now moving with more ease than he really should have. He'd never seen Sanzo's office, rarely visited it, and so he couldn't know how to avoid that certain chair, or to turn that sharply before he ran into Sanzo's desk. The monk's eyes narrowed. "What is this?"

Gojyo smirked. "Bet you thought I'd have to play housewife the rest of my life, didn't you, monk?"

"I was rather looking forward to you in an apron," Sanzo said flatly, folding his arms over his chest. "Now what the hell is going on?"

Hakkai turned to face him, surprisingly accurate. He smiled. "It's something I seemed to have picked up over the last few days. I can feel things around me for some reason." He walked forward again, resting his hand on Sanzo's desk. "The air around me feels different depending on the density of something."

"How convenient," Sanzo said flatly, though he was quietly marveling at the strange occurrence.

Gojyo shrugged. "It's not perfect; he can't tell when, say, there's a curtain hanging in the doorway rather than an actual door."

"At least that was only a curtain," Hakkai said, seeming amused. Sanzo snorted; there was obviously some inside joke going on, and he really didn't want to know what it was.

"Is that all?" he asked, his voice not once anything but monotone. He didn't wait for an answer. "That's wonderful. Now get out."

Gojyo seemed ready to protest, but Hakkai cut in quickly. "There is actually one other thing." Sanzo narrowed his eyes, but of course that didn't stop Hakkai. "We were supposed to give you this." From his pocket he produced a small slip of folded paper. Sanzo accepted it, unfolding it before reading.

After a minute or so he said flatly, "Great. How kind of you. You can go now."

"Sorry for bothering you," Hakkai said politely before joining Gojyo in the doorway. "We'll see you later."

"If luck is against us," Gojyo muttered, shutting the door behind them before Sanzo could retort. Instead the blonde simply glared after them, leaning back in his chair and reaching up to rub his temples.

_It's too damn quiet,_ he finally decided, opening one eye to glare at the accursed criminal files. _Ever since that voice died..._

That wasn't exactly the proper way to explain it, but it was accurate enough. Three years ago he'd started to hear a voice in his head, calling out in a wordless plea. Sanzo hadn't been able to understand it, simply that the caller wanted to be freed from something. It had been _extremely_ annoying, but then the day he finally decided to go and shut that damned voice up it suddenly stopped.

_Just as well,_ he'd sometimes think. _It was loud and annoying anyway, and I probably would have only killed them once I'd found them._

However, at other times he felt strange, as though he were missing something crucial. The only other time he could remember feeling that way was when his master had been slaughtered. That rainy night when blood had been spilled... Sanzo shook his head to get the image out of his mind, leaning forward again. Work. Work would keep him busy; keep his mind of stupid things like loneliness he couldn't afford.

Genjo Sanzo couldn't afford to be lonely. He just couldn't. That would be the downfall of everything.

------

_'Come over to dinner, Sanzo,'_ he thought bitterly to himself, rubbing his forehead as he lay in bed, reflecting on the earlier night's events. _'You're so worldly anyway, I'm sure the temple's food must seem like they're trying to starve you...' Hell, they may as well have just told me to drive out to the nearest whorehouse and wait, after what happened._

It hadn't seemed too bad an idea at the time. Hakkai he could stand; the man rarely got on his nerves and Sanzo could appreciate how he could keep Gojyo in line... when he wanted to. It was Gojyo that grated on his nerves.

Still, Hakkai'd had a point; that and the smell of incense occasionally got to him enough so that he'd escape for a while. He knew he wouldn't eat much, but they would have cigarettes _and_ beer, even if Gojyo's cigarettes did taste like shit.

He really should have remembered the consequences of getting a man like Gojyo drunk...

_"Beer all around!"__ Gojyo said, sounding too cheerful for Sanzo's liking as he practically slammed a six-pack down on the table. "Except for Hakkai, because he drinks tea like a wo--" He barely caught himself; Gojyo at least knew how to watch himself around Hakkai most of the time, even if he didn't have as much consideration for anyone else._

_"Like a what, Gojyo?" Hakkai asked pleasantly, his hands still on his cup of still-steaming green tea._

_Gojyo hesitated a moment before saying carefully, "Like any other respectable gentleman, of course."_

_Sanzo snorted, not believing a word that came from his mouth. Hakkai obviously didn't either, but he humored the man enough to simply say, "Ah, I see," before letting it drop._

_"Anyway," Gojyo said hastily, tearing a can from the plastic holders. "Let's just forget about all our issues with each other and get drunk, eh?" He tossed a can to Sanzo, who caught it easily. Sanzo narrowed his eyes, not missing that Gojyo had aimed for his head _and_ that Gojyo seemed slightly disappointed when he caught it. The redhead quickly glanced away._

_"You and Sanzo are the only ones that have issues with each other," Hakkai pointed out calmly, sipping his tea. His eyes remained closed, as though he were painfully aware of how creepy his sightless, fake eyes looked._

_Gojyo made a face, popping his can open and taking a huge swig. Looking at them, it seemed ridiculous that these two would be roommates. Sanzo scoffed silently, opening his own beer._

_An hour later he found himself still stuck in the kitchen, the food all but eaten, the beer nearly gone, and with a very, very drunk Gojyo._

_"S'boring in here," Gojyo slurred in his drunken state, mildly impressing Sanzo by only slouching a bit in his chair. For all the alcohol he'd consumed, and on a fairly empty stomach, the composure he had left was commendable._

_"We oughtta go pick up a few chicks," Gojyo continued, laughing and nearly falling over as he rocked his chair back. "I can provide the condoms!"_

_Then again, commendable was probably too strong a word._

_"Gojyo, I can hear the squeaking," Hakkai sighed. "Please stop rocking in that chair before you break it."_

_Gojyo did pause, though he was balancing precariously on the chair's back legs, squinting in Sanzo's direction. "Hey," he drawled drunkenly. "Hakkai, when did we invite a chick to dinner?"_

_Sanzo snarled, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. He was barely able to control himself and settle to looking over at Hakkai, saying flatly, "I think I've far overstayed my welcome."_

_Hakkai raised an eyebrow, seeming more amused than anything else, but Sanzo's voice seemed to have penetrated through Gojyo's inebriated mind._

_"Ohh, monk, is that you?" He laughed, tilting his chair back even further, amazingly not falling over. "Wow, and here I thought you were a girl... girly monk," he said in a sudden sing-song voice. "Girly monk!" Before Sanzo could retort the half-breed finally tilted back too far, crashing to the floor loudly enough that even Hakkai winced. Gojyo simply laughed, seeming unharmed. "Wow that was soooome fall!"_

_Disgusted, Sanzo turned to leave, but Gojyo didn't seem finished. He could hear the man stumbling to his feet; simple curiosity made Sanzo look back over his shoulder just as Gojyo leaned against Hakkai heavily and smirked. "Yo, Hakkai, I always wondered... boxers or briefs?"_

_Before anyone could react the water demon had shoved his hand into his roommate's pants. Hakkai's eyelids snapped open at the caustic move; even he had been taken by surprise, enough to emit an undignified squeak before he grabbed Gojyo's arm and pulled him back, getting to his feet and saying in a slightly strained voice, "Please excuse us." With that he led a very willing Gojyo out of the kitchen, presumably to a bedroom._

_" 'Eyyy__, Hakkai, think Blondie could join us?" Sanzo twitched, still able to hear the man's babbling through the thin walls. "Might be a pain in th'ass, but... s'gotta good ass, I'll betcha..."_

_"Not if we want to live to see morning," Hakkai's calmer, more reasonable voice said. "Why don't you lie down and I'll check on you later?"_

_Sanzo couldn't hear the snicker, but he knew Gojyo would laugh. "Nah... y'can check on me now..."_

_Twitching, Sanzo made sure to slam the door shut when he left._

Glancing outside, Sanzo jerked himself from the annoying memory. It was probably about midnight at this point and he was still feeling restless, uneasy somehow... and, unless he was mistaken, that was also a stab of envy.

But envy of _what_? Of those two morons? That was unlikely; Sanzo was perfectly fine without a lover; better off, even. It had nothing to do with his being a monk and supposedly practicing celibacy but everything to do with simple lack of interest.

Maybe their closeness simply reminded him how severely he was lacking companionship.

Unsettled by the thought, and plagued by the sudden onslaught of painful memories, it was nearly twilight when Sanzo finally fell asleep. When he did he had the strangest dream, one without shapes or feel and little color; for all he knew he was simply floating in a black oblivion. The one sense he retained in this dream was sound... and that sound proved to be one he hadn't heard in a long time: a strange voice.

It was wordless but definitely there, and though it was wordless Sanzo realized it wasn't crying out for the same thing it had so long ago. Back then it had seemed as though the voice was calling for him to come and release it from something, but it seemed the voice's owner had finally achieved that. No, it was calling for something else this time, and Sanzo got a brief image in his mind. It was round and bright, blinding as a light suddenly turned on in the darkest of rooms.

_The sun?___

He couldn't feel warmth or anything like that, but he instinctively knew that's what it was. But why would the sun be so important?

The strangest part was the flicker of golden eyes, eyes that were wide and childish, holding a glint of wicked mischief. Even odder was when they shifted, melting into a pair of obviously older eyes, the mischief transforming into smug deviousness, the childishness becoming something closer to deep-set sadness... and the left eye flickered until it settled into a deep blue color.

By the time morning came to wake him, Sanzo could only remember the voice. Even so, that was enough to disconcert him; he'd been so sure that voice was gone, but now it was haunting him in his dreams.

In some ways that was worse than remembering his deceased master every time it rained.

That day he had some business in town, though nothing too important. It would have been annoying if he'd gotten more orders from the Sanbutsushin; if they ever made him chase down another criminal, Sanzo swore he would shoot the next one between the eyes to kill off the chance of anyone else getting attached to him in any way whatsoever.

All he really had to do was pick up a few important supplies... such as cigarettes and beer. He didn't really eavesdrop; it was just that while he was paying for his nicotine he heard a few snippets of conversation that somehow caught his ears.

"... Cousin was saying that weird things have been happenin' out west."

"Yeah? How'zzat?"

"Jus' weird shit... a few demons real far west have been goin' a bit nuts, so's the rumor anyway..."

"Oh, I thought you was talkin' about those rumors of a little band o' gods popping up in some random places."

Sanzo shook his head, taking his pack of cigarettes and starting out, but the last important bits of conversation still somehow managed to find him

"I hearda that, too... got some weird weapons, dun they?"

"That's not what worries me... one of 'em's got gold eyes. And another's got gold and blue... looks like some freak taboo man or somethin'."

"I hear ya. That just sounds like bad news..."

The door shut behind Sanzo, effectively cutting the voices off. He tried not to think about the words, but for some reason the conversations about odd eye colors triggered some sort of memory... but of course, he'd never met anyone with gold eyes at all.

It was all just nonsense. Nodding to himself, Sanzo labeled the conversation as unimportant and forgot about it from that point on.


	3. Chapter Three

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG

Pairings: none

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, mild language, mild violence

Beta-read by: Iapetus

Notes: Again, thanks to everyone that's reviewed so far. Teh feedback makes me a happy D-chan. It really is great when I come home from school and see reviews for this fic. I've been working on this "behind the scenes" for a few months now, so getting solid feedback on it is absolutely fantastic.

Anyway, just as forewarning, chapters like the previous one will be coming few and far between at times. The main focus is on Homura and Goku-- especially Goku. I try to even it out when I can, though.

In any case... thanks again to the reviewers. And, as always, constructive criticism and feedback is still always appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Three_

If he didn't know any better, and if he hadn't known the man for nearly three solid years, Son Goku would have said this was an _extremely_ unfair situation.

_Bad enough that Zenon treats me like a child,_ he grumbled silently, trying to keep quiet as he made his way through the thick brush. _But _he_ treats me like an incompetent one! And Homura knows it!_

In fact, Homura was the one that had set up Goku's little training system. Shien would teach him stealth (he was frustratingly good at it, and so far Goku hadn't 'won' a single round) and battle tactics, Zenon would instruct in survival skills and physically test him in endurance (that was _not_ fun when he had to go against a Zenon happily armed with a machine gun), and Homura would be the one to train him in whatever martial arts he could, building the boy's strength gradually.

The first three years with Zenon and Shien hadn't exactly been easy. Goku found out fairly quickly that Homura was the leader and that it had been his idea to get Goku out in the first place. He'd been friendly from the start. Zenon and Shien, however...

Zenon was the one most vocally against having the boy in their group in the beginning. He had seemed quite set in the idea of their trio and having Goku there was like having a weakness. As much as he respected Homura -- he and Shien both did, clearly so -- not even the man's presence would hold back the biting comments that would always lead into shouting matches between him and Goku. Those had always ended with Homura laughing, Shien shaking his head in exasperation, and either Zenon or Goku sporting some sort of bruise or bloody limb.

That had been for the first two years; Goku was relieved to note that the tension between them was calming to a more companionable level. They still had their disagreements, but there was far less shouting and a lot more of the verbal fights ending with one of them, usually Goku, saying something stupid enough to make them just stop and see why Homura found them so amusing. (Which only made him laugh harder.) The physical fights were still there, but the injuries were, thankfully, much less serious.

As much of an older brother Zenon was to him now, though, the coldness radiating from Shien hadn't lessened one little bit.

_Okay, maybe I was pretty childish back then,_ Goku thought, getting irritated as tiny branches and twigs scratched at his face. _And maybe I still am... but I'm not as stupid! What's his problem?_

The worst part was that he had no idea _why_ Shien seemed to dislike him so much. Asking him would be stupid, of course, and he'd already tried getting it out of Zenon and Homura. Zenon had simply scoffed and said it was Shien's own personal problem and for him not to worry about it. Homura had just smirked and said that he'd tell Goku when he felt he was ready to understand.

Goku, of course, had no idea what either meant at _all_. It wasn't the only subject he felt in the dark on, either. Sometimes when returning to the campsite he would overhear faint murmurs that would abruptly stop just before he opened the door.

Homura may have saved him, but Goku still didn't feel like he belonged here.

He shook his head, trying not to think about it. _Doesn't matter,_ he told himself firmly. _We made a deal and that's that. Homura's honored his end of it; I need to do my part. And right now that means training until he feels I'm ready to help in making his perfect world._

Even after three years with the man Goku still had no idea how Homura planned to do it. Oh, he knew the reasons behind it; Homura was disgusted with the arrogant gods in the heavens, and if he made this new world it would be a perfect one _without_ those annoying gods. Goku privately agreed; after all, it was the gods that had forced him to be alone for five hundred years. But as for the mechanics... well, all Goku knew was that Homura wanted the Seiten and Maten scriptures.

He stilled suddenly; was that a rustle? Goku could have sworn he'd heard something... but looking around, he realized he was nearly to the point of being home free. With a grin he continued onward, nearly bursting out of the bushes.

Indeed, there was Homura at the end of the path, arms folded over his chest and watching Goku expectantly.

_I made it!_ he thought gleefully, waving to the man and starting to run toward him. However, before he'd taken more than a few steps, a pale blur came out of nowhere, causing Goku to skid to a surprised stop just before he ran into Shien.

Eyes still closed, Shien said a quiet, "Not good enough," before the hilt of one of his whips was abruptly slammed into Goku's gut.

------

More painful than his bruised abdomen was his hurt pride; Goku lay on his bed that night, barely able to enjoy the feel of really sleeping on a bed for once. Normally Homura would have them camping outside, and that usually turned into another survival lesson from Zenon. This time, however, he had calmly suggested they stay in a hotel for the next few days and take a little break from the training.

Goku was in no position to argue. He curled up a bit more, arms folded over his sore stomach in attempt to lessen the pain. _That jerk,_ he thought sullenly. _He did _not_ have to hit me that hard..._

The door opening suddenly startled him. Goku started to sit up, thinking it was Zenon (who was normally his roommate simply because it amused Homura) but his savior's voice saying, "Relax," immediately made him lie down again. Somehow being weak in front of the man wasn't quite the same as it was with Zenon or Shien. It wasn't that Goku didn't mind it; he actually was more self-conscious about his weaknesses in front of his savior. But Homura didn't needle him about it anymore than he was comfortable with, so it was okay.

Homura sat down in a rather comfortable looking chair by the wall across from Goku, resting his chin in his hand and smirking. "Shien hit you pretty hard. How do you feel?"

"Like kicking him between the legs," Goku replied honestly, grimacing. "And sore."

Chuckling, Homura said, "I realize he's sometimes unfair to you, but I also think this is for the best. You may not like it, but it will toughen you up in the years to come, Son Goku."

That was another thing Goku couldn't get Homura to stop doing: calling him by his full name. "Just call me Goku," he'd once protested. "It feels weird when you call me that."

Homura had simply shrugged and said, "I won't go on a first-name basis with you without good reason."

At the time that had hurt a lot. Goku had frowned and demanded, "What's wrong with me? You don't trust me?" Laughing, Homura had assured him it was nothing to do with trust. Goku had thought about then for a moment before asking, "Well, will you ever call me just by my first name?"

The expression on Homura's face had been strangely serious, as though the question was a lot more difficult to answer than Goku could ever hope to guess. At last, he'd simply said, "If the circumstances for that to happen ever come up, I will call you by only your first name... and only when I'm sure you will understand." Goku wasn't happy with the promise, but at the time he'd just nodded.

Sighing, Goku focused on the current conversation. "I guess, but can't we do it one level at a time? It feels like the second one of his hits don't cause an immediate bruise he turns it up five whole levels!" He knew he was whining, but Homura was really the only person that would put up with it.

Homura shrugged. "I can't interfere. Shien knows what he's doing; he's never injured you seriously, never broken a leg, arm or bone on your body. And he never draws blood." He smirked. "In fact, I'd almost say you're being a child about this."

Goku glared at him. "I _am_ a child!"

Homura raised an eyebrow, the amused smirk never leaving his face. "This is coming from the boy that always complains how his instructors treat him like a little boy?"

Goku felt his face warm as his words were used against him. He sighed and rolled over on his back, stretching out a bit and cringing as that upset the muscles in his stomach. "You don't... really treat me like a child," he admitted, eyes focused on the ceiling. "I mean, you're the only one that really listens to me... and you talk to me like an adult sometimes." _When you're not keeping secrets from me, anyway,_ he added quietly.

He heard a gentle creak, as though Homura was shifting in the chair. "I believe someone has to," the man said calmly. "I also believe that as a member of this group you have a valid opinion-- god or not."

Grinning, Goku turned his head to look at him again. "Sometimes I forget you're a god."

"Don't," Homura said simply. "That may be the death of you."

Shaking his head, Goku pushed himself into a sitting position, flinching slightly but trying to control it. "Say... Homura..." The man made a noise to show he was listening, but Goku fastened his eyes on his toes as though they would provide an answer to his question quicker than Homura. "Not that I'm unhappy about it, but... why're you rooming with me?" He finally glanced up. "I thought you liked it when Zenon and I got into stupid fights."

"They are amusing," Homura admitted, the corner of his lips curling up. "Why should I need a reason? I just felt like it."

Goku sighed in relief. "Good... I mean, Zenon's okay and all, but he can be really annoying... and his punches hurt like hell," he grumbled, his jaw aching in remembrance of past fights.

Homura arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should have done this from the start. You seem to be picking up some of his habits." Goku shrugged; it really was Zenon that he learned the swear words from, no denying that. Shien's speech was far too polite to allow that and Homura didn't seem to care for them. Besides, he could be smug and cocky without them and pull it off brilliantly. It was something Goku privately admired but would never bother to try doing.

"Homura..." Goku waited for another barely audible noise that signaled he could go on. "If we're not gonna be training the next few days, what _are_ we gonna do?"

The man smiled, his expression more smug than anything else at the moment. "Well, it will be a sort of break for you while the rest of us go about discouraging any strange rumors." Goku wrinkled his nose; that sort of thing was boring to him, but the others insisted it was necessary.

_"Why?" Goku protested. "Why not let them think you're all gods? You can control them that way, can't you?"_

_Homura fixed him with a level stare, his voice quiet. "Would you do it?" At the boy's puzzled look, he tried again. "Would you abuse your powers like that if you had them? Is that what you want, Son Goku? To become strong so you can control people and make them bend to your every whim?"_

_He cringed at the idea; he hadn't wanted to make it sound like _that_. "I... no," he said quietly, lowering his eyes._

_Homura nodded. "Just trust me on this. It's necessary. Can you do that?"_

_The question brought an unexpected, very broad smile to Goku's face. "Trust you? Yeah!" He laughed. "I've always trusted you! You never gave me reason not to."_

_Homura smiled back, looking pleased. "Then believe me when I say it's necessary." Once getting the nod from his pupil, he smirked. "Now, why don't we see how much of a beating you can take today?"_

As Homura was his teacher in everything involving the martial arts and fighting techniques, Goku actually couldn't complain when the man beat him into the ground. He had at first, of course; though he didn't seem like it in the beginning, Homura was a tough teacher and he seemed to have high expectations for his young student. Goku still had no idea what made him think that, but if he could say anything it would be that yes, he had improved greatly in the past couple of years.

"So is that all you guys'll be doing?" Goku asked curiously.

"No," Homura said calmly. "But much of the rest is none of your business."

The boy glared. "Then what am I supposed to do?" he whined, kicking the mattress in his version of a tantrum. "I'll be bored! And I don't wanna help Shien, and Zenon will just find a way to make fun of me all day, or get me lost on purpose!" He glared again when Homura chuckled; Zenon actually _had_ gotten the boy lost in a crowd before. Maybe Homura found it amusing, but Goku hadn't. It had been on one of his first days being set free, so he'd been near tears by the time Homura came across him.

Goku was embarrassed by the memory; he knew he'd been so relieved to see Homura that he'd actually ran forward and nearly tackled the man, clinging to him and burying his face in Homura's stomach until his soothing petting and words calmed him down. From that point on Goku never trusted Zenon when they were alone. Being in a hotel didn't count since Homura was usually just across the hall, and besides, it would be rather difficult to lose a boy in such a tiny place.

He leaned over, hands on his ankles as he frowned at Homura. "I wanna go with you! I hate being bored. And don't you even try telling me I'll find something to do here!"

"You're right," Homura said dryly. "Let's see... what _have_ you done when alone in a village before?" Goku reddened, not wanting to hear it, but before he could protest Homura was already speaking again. "Aside from causing simple trouble just by being careless about our identities, you've played the little orphan boy to get older women to feed you, gotten into several fights with spoiled children, gotten into a lot of mischief by stealing--"

"See?" Goku interrupted hastily, trying to ignore Homura's smirk. "You wouldn't want me loose in this town!" He bounced a bit in his place, pleading. "Please Homura? Let me go with you? I'll be good, I promise!" He rarely had to stoop this low, but Goku really didn't want to be alone. That was why he'd even accepted Homura's offer in the first place; because of the promise to not be alone anymore. He hated, really hated, not having anyone nearby... and for some reason it was ten times worse when he didn't know where Homura was.

Homura stared at him for a long moment, looking thoughtful. After a tense minute or two he shook his head, a rueful smile touching his lips. "We'll see," he said. "I'll decide in the morning."

The boy made a face at him. "Will it really take that long?"

"Perhaps." He blinked, taken aback by Homura's serious tone. "What I'm doing is a bit personal, so I'll have to decide if I'm ready to tell you or not."

"Oh..." Goku shifted uneasily; he had been prying, but he hadn't thought it was into something that serious. Homura was generally good-natured and humored him a lot, but when he talked in that tone it meant Goku was getting too nosy.

Homura glanced outside. "It's getting late... and it looks like rain." He shot the boy a look, his usual smile back in place. Goku relaxed; Homura wasn't mad at him, at least, and that was a huge comfort. "I'm sure you're happy."

"Camping out in the rain _sucks_," Goku agreed, falling back on the mattress and closing his eyes. "Mm... maybe I'll sleep all day tomorrow instead... if he hit me like he usually does, I'll be _really_ sore in the morning," he complained.

Laughing, Homura stood. "Suit yourself, Son Goku." He turned out the lights and Goku could hear the faint rustle of him climbing into the other bed.

It seemed that Homura had been right about the weather. When Goku fell asleep it was to the soft breathing of his savior and the gentle thrumming of light rain against the window.

------

Homura couldn't sleep.

Contrary to popular belief, gods did need to sleep. They were just like humans in every way except for their longer lifespan. He, like anyone else in the Lower World, needed at least a few hours to rest and recharge himself. Every god needed to, especially the god of war.

It wasn't too unusual, even if it was troublesome. Homura had difficulty sleeping quite often, and usually only when he was in the same room as Son Goku. He did genuinely like the boy; he was entertaining, especially when he and Zenon got into arguments over the silliest things. And though it had dimmed a bit over time Homura still recognized that childish innocence flickering in the recesses of golden eyes very much like his.

_Heretic eyes,_ he thought absently, rolling over on his side. _Eyes that are said to bring great fortune be it good or bad..._ His eyes were long adjusted to the room's darkness and found Goku's sprawled form easily. The boy was carefree, even in his sleep, the sheets kicked and tangled in ways no human could ever achieve. Goku was obviously not the practical type; should someone attempt to attack him in his sleep, he'd be a very blatant target.

But it was something Homura liked about the boy. He was very childish and obvious, but it made him blunt and straightforward without being entirely predictable.

He sighed softly, shaking his head a bit. It was quite apparent that Goku had abandonment issues and that was what made him so persistent when it came to going certain places. Even after three years the boy hadn't quite grasped that Homura had no intention of abandoning him... but at the same time, perhaps that was a good thing.

After all, in the end it just may seem like abandonment...

Trying to take his mind off that, as it was too far in the future to worry about right away, Homura's thoughts went back to Goku's request. It was true that all Homura was going to do was go around to dispel any "rumors" about a band of gods wreaking havoc... on the surface. But even as he did that he did have other intentions: to find her resting place.

It had taken too long as it was. Five hundred years was far too long to find one place, but he simply hadn't had the time to do his search whilst heaven used him as their new killing doll.

_Five centuries as their doll,_ he thought, a faint smirk on his lips. _I wonder what they'll do when they have no heretics left to do the killing for them?_ Gods, technically speaking, weren't allowed to kill. Only the god of war was expelled from that rule, but he had to be under their control and kill only whoever they felt necessary.

Really, without him heaven would be so _helpless_.

A soft, barely audible mumble distracted him from his thoughts. Something about it made Homura sit up and look sharply at the sleeping boy. There was an unnatural note of fear in there.

And Goku's posture was all wrong. Only moments before he'd been sleeping with his limbs going in every which direction; now he was curled up on his side in a fetal position, one of his hands gripping the sheets beneath him. Homura quietly slid out of bed, moving to kneel beside the boy. He took note of the drawn-down eyebrows, the teeth worrying at his lower lip...

Goku muttered softly, his muscles tensing. "Cold..."

Homura sighed. Just as he had trouble sleeping Goku seemed to have nightmares whenever they shared a room. Zenon had never seen the boy have any bad dreams, and Goku and Shien never shared a room for obvious reasons. (Homura wasn't worried about bloodshed, but he knew that in the end Goku would whine enough until someone switched anyway.)

He'd never disrupted the boy's dreams before. Homura had heard somewhere that doing that may just make things worse somehow.

But then, he'd never seen Goku shake this badly before, either. His body trembled as though with anger or overwhelming sadness.

For some odd, unexplainable reason, it made Homura want to protect the boy. He placed a hand on Goku's arm, shaking him a bit. The boy made a small whimper, so Homura shook him a bit more roughly. "Wake up," he said, his tone quiet but firm.

The words must have triggered something because the tremors died down. Goku's eyes opened slowly, blinking as though his eyelids weighed a ton. He gazed blearily up at the man, mumbling, "The rocks... cave... so alone..." He moaned, trying to pull back into himself. Clearly he wasn't entirely awake yet. "Closing in... no one... cold..."

Homura's smirk then was bitterer than anything else. He gave Goku's arm a light squeeze, saying gently, "It's all right. You are not there anymore."

"Not..." Goku murmured, relaxing as he stopped trying to pull away. "Where..." Homura opened his mouth to start explaining, but then Goku finished with a sigh, "Is the sun...?"

Closing his mouth again, Homura could only watch as Goku fell right back to sleep, his posture as relaxed as an infant's. The man pulled away, getting to his feet and staring at the boy contemplatively.

He went back to bed, feeling strangely drained and a bit numb. Homura looked over at the boy once more to make sure he really was sleeping; Goku continued to breathe deeply and evenly, seemingly untroubled by his earlier dream.

_So... even now he still desires you above all else, Konzen..._


	4. Chapter Four

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG

Pairings: HomuraRinrei, hinted GokuHomura

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language

Beta-read by: Iapetus

Notes: For those unfamiliar with Chinese mythology (and for those wondering, since this was actually difficult information to find) Chang Hs'ien is the Chinese guardian god of children, as well as the god of dreams and pregnancy.

Constructive criticism and feedback are always appreciated and loved.

* * *

_Chapter Four_

The next morning Goku woke up feeling as sore as he'd expected. He grimaced upon awakening, groaning softly as his arms moved over his abdomen. It didn't help when Homura's amused, "Awake, are we?" sounded just above him.

"That's not funny," he mumbled, curling up a bit. "Ugh... he hit really _hard_..."

"Only as you expected," the ebon-haired man said calmly. "Right?" Goku shot him a dirty look. He was right, but still...

Homura shrugged. "I suppose you don't feel up to walking around, then?"

Goku blinked, taking time to let the question sink into his sleep-fogged brain. When it finally did the fog seemed to suddenly dissipate as he sat up, flinching but saying eagerly, "You mean I can go with you?"

"If you're feeling up to it. It's not going to be anything fun, Son Goku," Homura reminded him.

The boy shook his head, relief washing over him too strongly for him to care. "That's fine! Really, I don't mind!" _I just don't want to be alone all day..._ He got to his feet, grinning broadly as he hurried out. "I'm just gonna take a shower! I'll be quick!"

It was the quickest shower of his life, not counting the times Zenon would be hurrying him through everything (including breakfast, which never ceased to irritate Goku) so they could get right down to training. Goku stumbled out with his hair dripping, barely even toweled off and still pulling on his jeans. Homura gave him an amused look but didn't comment until Goku had finished pulling on his shirt. "Ready? Let's go." He started out without waiting for an answer and Goku had to scramble after him.

Outside was sunny, but the air smelled wet. The ground was a bit muddy in some places after last night's rain. Everyone but the small children avoided those spots; little kids would go diving right into them, shrieking with laughter until a fussy mother or annoyed father dragged them away.

The name of the town escaped Goku at the moment, but it seemed just like any other town: fairly busy, with people running around trying to get everything done at once.

Except for Homura, who was just walking around as though he were taking a leisurely tour. Goku focused on him, suddenly realizing that his savior looked rather different. He wasn't wearing his lavender cape embroidered with flames, which struck Goku as particularly odd. Even in hot weather, even with fighting, Homura always wore that cape. It was one thing he'd answered directly when Goku had asked him about it; he couldn't remember who had given him his name, nor the cape, but that cape was something of a security blanket to him. Goku found it a bit odd that a grown man would need that... but then again, he was a teenager, would be an adult in a couple years, and _his_ "security blanket" was walking right in front of him.

Another odd thing about Homura today was that his hair, normally parted from one side, fell over his forehead, covering the chakra indicating his godliness. Goku thought about that for a moment, knowing he shouldn't ask Homura about it in the open, and quickly came to the simple conclusion: Homura was discouraging any rumors about the band of gods traveling over India and China, and to do this he had to at least look human. A cape was too conspicuous and a chakra indicated you either were a god or were at least close to them.

_That makes sense,_ the boy mused. _I guess that's what they've been doing this whole time... must be interesting to see Shien cover his chakra, though..._ Zenon didn't have one to Goku's knowledge, which struck him as particularly odd since the man was most definitely a god... well, if he wasn't, Goku hadn't an inkling otherwise.

A sudden delicious smell caught Goku's nose. He turned to see an early morning noodle stand just ahead to his left. It smelled _really_ good, too...

He opened his mouth to ask Homura to get him something, but when he looked the man had already walked a ways ahead of him, though he seemed to have stopped and was talking to someone. Frowning, Goku hurried to catch up, noting who he was talking to. It seemed to be a young girl who couldn't have been much older than Goku, though she was a good few inches taller.

She seemed flustered, which didn't surprise Goku. Her face was bright red and she kept diverting her eyes, then looking back at Homura shyly. Homura, ever the charismatic one, simply smiled and acted as though that sort of reaction to him was normal.

Perhaps it was.

"Oh... I-I don't listen to those silly rumors," she said, her voice shaking with nervousness. "I mean... haha! Gods, coming to earth... to kill people? Th-there's only one god for that anyway!"

"I completely agree," Homura said calmly, acting as though she wasn't stammering at all. "Besides, some of us don't even believe in the gods."

"R-right!"

Goku shook his head at the display. The girl obviously didn't get much attention from guys, and getting attention from a man like Homura must have been absolutely overwhelming for her. Goku's eyes roamed as he grew bored, but he found his gaze constantly flickering back to the two. Somehow the longer they talked the more unnerved he became... and the stranger their conversation got.

"My mother?" The girl wasn't stammering as much now, but her face hadn't returned to its normal color. "I... I look more like my father than anything, I swear... Mama's so pretty..."

"Oh, I'm sure you must have inherited a good deal of the better looks in your family," Homura said gently, a faint smirk on his face. "Your hair is a very lovely shade of blonde. It's very attractive."

Goku twitched a bit, watching the girl redden further as her hand self-consciously went up to touch one of her sandy-colored braids. "I... thank you," she squeaked. "It... Mama's hair is much prettier... really... it's dark and curly and..." She floundered a moment.

"Dark?" Goku noticed the sudden change in Homura's voice, but the girl didn't seem to. He looked at the man curiously, wondering why he suddenly sounded so disappointed. "Ah, so you have your father's hair."

"Y-yeah... Daddy's ancestors are foreigners," she explained, seeming to get a bit of control over herself as some of the blushing faded a bit. "I... I don't remember where they came from, but it wasn't here..."

"I see." Goku shifted, hoping that the disappointment he'd heard in Homura's voice would discourage him from talking to the girl any further, but he didn't seem finished yet. "You must have gotten your eyes from your mother, am I right?"

"Well... yes..."

Goku couldn't stay still any longer. He practically ran right up to Homura, cutting him off before he could utter another word. "Homura," he whined, tugging on his arm. "I haven't had breakfast yet! You gotta give me something to eat or I swear I'll die!"

The man blinked, looking taken aback by the sudden rude interruption. But Goku just gave him a sulky look, and as though on cue his stomach rumbled. The girl looked startled and uneasy, but Homura laughed.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." He smiled at the girl. "I thank you for this lovely chat, but my little brother seems to be impatient this morning."

She looked relieved somehow, but Goku only bristled. _Brother? What do you mean, brother?!_ "Oh, you're brothers," she sighed, laughing a bit sheepishly. "Now that I look, one of your eyes is just like his..."

"Yes," Homura said. "In any case, it was a pleasure talking to you, my dear." She brightened prettily at the endearing term. "If you'll excuse us."

Goku waited until they had walked a fair distance away before whirling on Homura, glaring. "Little brother?" he demanded. "Since when am I your little brother?"

Homura arched an eyebrow. "You heard her; we have the same eyes. I've been using this excuse for anyone that's associated you with me, Son Goku."

"I don't like it," he said stubbornly. "You don't feel like my brother. Zenon feels more like my brother."

"Zenon looks anything _but_ your brother," Homura pointed out, seeming a bit exasperated. "Now since you were so rude as to interrupt a conversation like that, will you find a place to eat so I can continue with my duty?"

Goku froze in place, realizing what he'd just done. It was because he did things like that Zenon and Shien called him a child in the first place, and at the moment Homura didn't seem to think any higher of him than they did. Embarrassed, he lowered his eyes and muttered an apology, receiving a soft sigh and a pat on the shoulder.

"I guess it's partially my fault for dismissing your appetite," Homura amended, smiling faintly. "So what would you like this morning, Son Goku?"

Relaxing a bit, Goku led the man off to a small restaurant. It seemed tiny and didn't have many customers, but Goku trusted his sense of smell to lead him to only the best places to eat. Within half an hour he was settled at a table and eating nearly everything in sight. Homura ate a bit, too, though he kept himself down to one plate simply because he had the appetite of any other human. Goku's stomach was inhuman, and he'd consumed nearly twenty full dishes before-- and only twenty because Homura had insisted they leave soon.

Just when he was scooping up the last of his fried noodles, Goku paused and looked across the table. "Hey, Homura..."

Homura had finished long before the boy. He'd been looking around the nearly empty restaurant, even out the windows as though he were waiting for someone, but looked at the boy when his name was called. "Yes?"

Goku set down his bowl a moment, frowning. "Why were you asking about that girl's ancestors, anyway?"

Shaking his head, Homura said nothing to that. However, he did say, "Perhaps you can be helpful and ask around for me."

Frowning, Goku said, "Ask for what?"

Homura looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well... some of the same things I did. The physical traits I'm looking for are sandy blonde hair and cerulean eyes."

The girl Homura had spoken to earlier had that color hair, Goku realized. But not the eyes; her eyes had been a deep brown. "Homura... are you looking for someone?"

"More or less," the man admitted, sighing. "Are you finished yet?" Goku shook his head, quickly going back to his noodles. However the twinge of jealousy he'd felt before was rising again. It wasn't exactly that he was jealous of the girls, simply that he'd pestered Homura to take him on his errands today so that Goku wouldn't be alone. And yet it didn't seem to be working because Homura was so preoccupied with looking for this... other person.

It was selfish, and he knew it, but Goku didn't want to share his savior with anyone. It was enough to have to split his time amongst Zenon and Shien, thank you very much.

As soon as Goku set his bowl down Homura signaled for the check. He waited until they were finished and outside before turning to the boy. "If you'll be so kind as to help, I want you to ask people with blonde hair and blue eyes about their ancestors. Get names if you can; that would be most helpful."

Goku frowned. "What name should I listen for?"

Homura sighed, seeming reluctant to tell the boy, but he came up with a way around it easily. "A female one. And I don't need anything recent; if it's someone your age, ask them about ancestors from... perhaps five to six generations ago."

It wasn't an arrangement Goku would have preferred, but he nodded anyway. However, rather than split up he simply lingered with Homura, keeping an eye out for the hair and eye colors the man had mentioned.

Something about Homura looking into an ancient female's name bothered him. If she was human or even demon Goku had no doubts she would be dead and gone... but what if she was a goddess? And what did Homura want from her? He seemed so intent on finding her, and always quiet and seeming discouraged when he couldn't find what he was looking for.

Goku watched him for a while, quietly observing. _What's so important about her? Why is she so important that he'd go through all this trouble?_ He felt another stab of jealousy, frowning and folding his arms over his chest. As mean as it was to think it... _I hope she isn't a goddess... and I hope he doesn't find her if she is._

He felt guilty for thinking such a thing, especially when it seemed to mean so much to Homura, but he couldn't help it. He just didn't want Homura to find her.

Still, he'd feel horrible if he didn't even try helping. Grumbling to himself, Goku tugged on a lock of his long hair in frustration as he debated inwardly. If he helped that would make Homura at least happy with him, even if his search turned out fruitless. But if he helped and he found this woman Homura was looking for... what if she took him away?

He couldn't stand the thought of ever being alone again.

Shuddering, Goku looked up as he heard Homura's voice. The man was talking to another woman, this one a good few years older than the last. She wasn't exactly young, but if Goku was the type to look he'd admit she was attractive...

And she seemed to love the attention Homura lavished on her. Bristling, Goku looked around, trying to find anyone with the traits Homura had mentioned, but she was the only one within eyesight. Goku was _not_ keen on leaving Homura alone with her.

It suddenly made him wonder exactly how many times Homura had done this.

He acted without thinking, pushing through the crowd of people to cut in between them. "Hey, Homura! There was a noodle stand back there I didn't get to try, and I'm still starving! Get me something!"

The god gave him an odd look, one that Goku honestly couldn't read very well, but he sighed and turned back to the woman. "I apologize for my brother's rude behavior. Please excuse us..." He grabbed Goku by the arm, startling the boy, and said in an unnaturally tense tone, "Well, show me where it is, then."

Embarrassed but not wanting to turn back, Goku dragged the man back to where they had started; pointing out the stand he had seen earlier. Homura allowed him to order something, but he didn't seem as willing as he had with breakfast.

"Are you happy?" he asked, his voice not once raising but clearly portraying underlying irritation. Goku kept his eyes on his noodles, nodding as he quietly started to eat. "All right then."

To his surprise and discomfort Homura didn't leave. He stood there, eyes not even wandering as he waited for the boy to finish. Somehow that made it harder for Goku to swallow his food and he nearly ended up choking.

Only when the last noodle was gone did Homura speak. "Son Goku, did you ever wonder why I never took you with me on this sort of thing before?" Goku nodded numbly, not liking where this was going. "It's exactly because of this," Homura said, confirming the boy's suspicions. He didn't blink when Goku flinched. "You are too great a distraction on your own, but this time I believe you're doing it on purpose." Goku just shrugged, but that didn't seem to placate Homura at all. "Do you care to explain why you're acting more of a child than you already do?"

That stung and Goku realized Homura knew exactly what he was doing. He ducked his head, face burning as the man berated him. He began to wish Homura would yell; at least then it wouldn't be so horrible as the silent annoyance and disappointment radiating from him.

After a very elongated pause Goku finally muttered, "Sorry."

Normally Homura would accept just that, but on the rare occasion Goku was doing something especially foolish he wouldn't. This seemed to be one of those times, because the man's expression didn't change at all. "I'd rather know why you're doing this than have an apology."

Goku shrank back a little, giving the man a sullen look. He hated it when Homura got like this. In some ways it was worse than being left behind. When it came to being alone or being stuck in this situation, Goku honestly couldn't say which was worse.

He kicked at the ground, knowing he was testing Homura's patience by stalling so long. Finally he muttered the only excuse that made sense even to him. "I didn't like those girls... that's all."

When he peered up he half expected Homura to be exasperated, maybe even angry, but he was startled to see that Homura simply looked puzzled. The man stared at him oddly for a long moment before sighing heavily, reaching out and giving the boy an affectionate tug on one of his ear tails. Goku yelped, as the movement was a bit rougher than normal, but his glare was only half-hearted. _He's not mad..._

"What am I going to do with you?" Homura mused, shaking his head. "Please, just stay out of any conversations I have today. I'm sorry this isn't what you wanted, but I have other things to do than give you attention from sunrise to sunset."

Goku rubbed his head, the sting of humiliation still not quite gone. "Okay... sorry..."

Homura shook his head, giving him a shadow of his usual confident smirk. "Why don't we just pretend this never happened, all right? If you really do get hungry, just be patient. I don't talk _that_ long."

Scoffing and feeling things start to slip back to normal, Goku said with a tinge of relief, "Yeah, you do. You jerk. You like hearing yourself talk."

"About as much as I enjoy watching you eat," Homura said wryly, giving him another gentler tug on his hair before he started off. "Just behave."

"I'm not a dog," Goku grumbled, following after the man anyway.

Despite his strong desire to cut in several of Homura's talks after that, Goku somehow managed to restrain himself. Homura's subtle but painful needling had done the trick; each time Goku moved to grab his arm he would remember Homura's words, flinch, then settle back and be quiet. The first few times he did this the half-god would give him a look of approval before going back to what he was doing. In some ways that made Goku feel a bit better.

It didn't seem to matter anyway; by the end of the day Homura hadn't seemed to find any leads at all. He was unusually quiet as they walked back to the hotel around late evening. It wasn't that Homura talked a lot, simply that he would comment on more of Goku's ramblings than he did that night.

It disturbed and hurt Goku greatly to see him like that.

Goku didn't grow alarmed until Homura turned not to go to their room but to Zenon and Shien's. "Homura?" The man paused, glancing over his shoulder to show he was listening. "Where are you going?"

Homura shrugged. "I'm going to ask Zenon if he'll switch rooms." Staring, it took Goku nearly too long to realize what Homura had just said. By the time it sank in the man was about to open the door.

However, Goku's sudden, furious, "_Why?_" made him stop again. He sighed, not looking back at the boy, which only served to make Goku even tenser. "You..." Goku's fists clenched. "You _always_ do this!" he burst out before he could stop himself. "Why do you always do this?! Are you mad at me? I already said I'm sorry and I stopped interrupting your stupid questions!"

Homura turned back to him, frowning. "I'm not mad," he said quietly. "I just don't want to put up with anything that will most certainly tire me more tonight."

"I can be quiet," Goku insisted. "I won't talk at all! I'll go right to sleep!"

"Fine," Homura said tiredly. "Zenon will be happy to hear that."

Goku grit his teeth, trying to stave off the outburst trying to work its way out. It wasn't fair to keep arguing with Homura like this, especially when it was obvious he was so exhausted, but a part of him refused to back down. "That's not fair!" he yelled, kicking his foot against the floor childishly.

"Keep your voice down; some people may be sleeping," Homura said.

"No! You're always abandoning me and I hate it!" Goku slammed his fist into the wall beside him. The plaster cracked, and he saw Homura's eyes narrow slightly, but couldn't seem to stop his mouth from moving. "You always leave me alone or with someone else, and that's not what you promised! You freed me and you're supposed to be with me, Homura! If you aren't going to--" Inwardly he froze, realizing he should stop right there, but his brain couldn't seem to stop his mouth fast enough. "--then you should have left me in that damn cave!"

The silence that followed was tense, far too tense for Goku to handle long. Much to his frustration he realized he was shaking, partially from anger and partially from fear. Whatever Homura did next would determine a lot of things... and Goku was deathly afraid one would be something he never wanted to hear.

At last, Homura moved. He didn't speak yet, just stepped forward to give the boy a patronizing tap on the face. "Don't start crying," he said, his voice sounding a lot more like the Homura Goku knew. Blinking, Goku just stared at him. "Do you really want me to stay that much, Son Goku?"

He seemed to have used all his words during his tantrum, because Goku couldn't think of a response. He just nodded.

"Very well," Homura agreed. "I could do well to remember just what position you were in for five centuries, I suppose." He clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder, making Goku stumble a bit. "It's getting late, and I expect we'll be getting several complaints about all that shouting. We'll just retire for the night."

"Okay," Goku sighed, following the man back to the room. Without argument he changed into more comfortable attire for sleeping, crawling into bed in nothing more than shorts and a t-shirt before Homura turned out the lights and followed his example.

Even though he'd won, however, Goku couldn't feel too happy. He kept his face pressed into his pillow, not crying, simply emotionally overwhelmed and not understanding why.

_I don't understand,_ he thought miserably. _I got what I wanted... but I'm not happy, and he's still disappointed over what happened earlier. I... don't get it..._

It was a confusion that plagued him even after he fell asleep, not even once soothed by the touch of Chang Hs'ien.


	5. Chapter Five

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG

Pairings: Homura/Rinrei, hinted Goku/Homura

Warnings: AU-ish, mild angst, violence, language

Beta-read by: Iapetus

Notes: I just want to let the reviewers know that I deeply appreciate all the feedback they've given me. PW has become a sort of baby of mine in this fandom, and I'm delighted to see that people are enjoying it.

In answer to hayashi-kutsuki's question... one thing I look for in reviews, in general, is people telling me what is or isn't good about the fic-- and this includes punctuation, spelling, grammar, _and_, most importantly, characterization. I've been told before that certain readers don't care for my portrayal of certain characters, but they never really say why, or what I did wrong, or how I could have made something feel more _right_ to them. Even if what they have to say may completely parallel my point of view, I still am keen on that other perspective. Insight is the key to enlightenment; one should understand all (or at least as many as possible) sides of a subject, from many others' points of view, before they can figure out what they really believe.

That's just my belief, of course.

Constructive criticism and feedback is always appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Five_

This wasn't the set-up she'd had in mind at _all_.

If asked, Kanzeon Bosatsu would have shamelessly said she was a fairly easy-going goddess. After all, she didn't mind bending a few rules to get her way and entertain herself, and all that was required to please her was for something interesting to happen. While the current events _were_ fairly interesting, they weren't doing much to bring entertainment from her stuffy young nephew.

_So you think that just because you had a difficult past I'm going to let you get away with being so boring,_ she scoffed quietly, her eyes ever trained on the image of Konzen's reincarnation floating in her pond. _Not likely, dear nephew._

When it came right down to it all of this could be blamed on Homura for being too impatient. After all, his and Son Goku's paths would have crossed eventually. But it seemed he had wanted to get right on with things, freeing Goku before her nephew could.

Oh, she supposed she could have made the connection between Konzen and Goku stronger so her silly nephew would have felt more compelled to shut up the supposedly annoying voice. She just hadn't expected Homura to move in so quickly.

_Well, you can't really blame him,_ she decided. _Things _are_ horribly boring up here, and he's one of the few that realize how incompetent these fools are._

She _had_ to give him credit for that, even if he was messing things up for her. Besides, he probably hadn't realized exactly how important Goku was to the chain of things. She could safely assume that Tenpou wouldn't be completely blind if Konzen had released the boy first. Aside from that, the tension between the three -- Konzen, Tenpou, and Kenren's reincarnations, of course -- would be far less with a childlike presence to distract them.

Also the experiments to reviving Gyuumaoh had, somehow, been hurried along. There was no telling exactly how Homura's releasing the boy had done that, simply that it was true. The gods hadn't expected work to progress so quickly, after all.

She smirked, standing up. It only meant that they would have to speed things along as well, naturally. She hadn't planned on sending the group after Gyuumaoh for another two or three years, but it simply couldn't be helped now.

Or rather, she was extremely bored and wanted to get things rolling again.

"I hope you're up for this, Konzen," she said aloud, smirking at the blonde man's reflection. "Because this is going to be rather long, painful journey for the three of you."

------

Sanzo was not in a good mood, to put it lightly. Getting a summons from the Sanbutsushin was normal; after all, he was a high-ranking priest, whether he liked it or not. He was there to do the work the so-called gods above couldn't (in Sanzo's mind that simply said they were too lazy and wanted a mortal to do their grunt work) or to occasionally complete a fairly difficult task.

This time it was traveling west to stop some idiotic resurrection. That in itself was annoying; it would take months, even years just to get to India, never mind find and stop the fools trying to revive the demon king. However, to make the task even more painful, he was supposed to drag Cho Hakkai and Sha Gojyo with him.

And that wasn't even the most annoying part.

_"There is one last thing before you leave."_

_Sanzo frowned slightly, his gaze still on the floor. It had seemed like finding out his master's sutras were in the west as well had been of most importance, so of course they would save it for last... but if there was one other thing, what could it be? He waited for the order to continue; this time it came from the left head._

_"There is a creature that walks this earth. He is essential to the stopping of the resurrection of Gyuumaoh." Sanzo's eyebrow raised slightly as he peered up at them skeptically, but he said nothing, patiently waiting for the rest. "He is not quite demon, but not quite human, either. A heretical being borne of the earth..." Her voice grew stronger suddenly, emphasizing the importance. "Your orders are that when you find him, you _must_ stop the journey until he agrees to come with you."_

_Sanzo narrowed his eyes. The idea seemed ridiculous, stupid even. How could one heretic make so huge a difference in battle that they would have to halt all travel until he came with?_

_Before he could express this thought, however, the middle head spoke. "He will not be hard to identify. His eyes are gold, as all heretics are." A brief image flashed by in Sanzo's mind, one too fleeting to really grasp, and he had the distinct feeling that image hadn't been from his own mind. "He responds to the name Son Goku."_

_Surprised to feel a strange twinge of familiarity, it took Sanzo a moment to refocus on the conversation at hand. "Forgive me if I don't find one little monkey worth stopping a journey to cease an entire resurrection," he said, his voice flat though his speech was polite enough._

_The right head spoke, and it irked Sanzo to see that she had the slightest of smirks on her face. "Then it will ultimately be up to you to decide if you really should stop or not. However, you may find that you won't have much of a choice in the end."_

Bad enough that they had called him on such short notice, but to pile so much idiocy on him at once was enough to irritate Sanzo just enough to be a lot more curt than usual. It seemed like sheer folly to stop an entire journey just to get one creature-- one demon. One _heretic_; heretics weren't demons, technically, even if their powers were demonic. There was no way one being could make that much of a difference.

That only meant one thing to Sanzo. It meant that should he happen to run across this Son Goku he would continue going west without so much of a backward glance. Gods or no, orders or none, he wasn't about to let some damned demon stop him for even a moment.

------

Goku didn't bother asking Homura to tag along the next day and Homura seemed relieved to note that. It was horrible being alone but getting into yesterday's mess had been ten times worse. At least to Goku it had been.

_It's because I hate fighting with him,_ he thought absently, walking aimlessly through town. He had no real destination in mind at the moment; he just wanted to walk and think things out. Yesterday would normally have been unremarkable but so many things had happened in such a short time period that he was still uneasy and uncomfortable. He knew he was in deep trouble the moment he realized Homura was making him uncomfortable just by looking at him.

It was a bit odd, however, how Homura had been glancing at him all morning and looking so damned thoughtful. It made Goku tingle at the same time it made his skin crawl. He wasn't sure he liked that last reaction very much, and he wasn't sure what to make of the first.

_I wonder if I should have lunch yet..._ Breakfast had been a hearty but lonesome affair; Homura had decided to leave the moment Goku announced he was hungry. At least he'd lingered long enough to make sure the boy had enough money to buy a decent meal.

Sometimes Homura could be just as generous as he could be stingy...

Goku blinked, taking an actual look at his surroundings. Somehow his feet were carrying him further and further to the outskirts of the town. He faltered in his steps a moment, indecisive, but decided that as long as he was back by nightfall it shouldn't matter where he went. With that in mind he continued to let his feet do the thinking for him for the time being.

He was always grateful for the times their training would pause; rest was something Goku wasn't allowed too much of when they were on their "normal" schedule. Still, each break always ended up with everyone going off to do their own thing. He knew Homura didn't lack feelings for his companions and cared for each of them on some level, that he held him, Zenon, and Shien on some level of importance, but there were moments Goku really felt he wasn't truly a part of their group. It was as though they were a trio with excess baggage-- hell Zenon even teased him about that sometimes.

_It's not that it's dark, just that I can't see the sun._ He blinked, frowning at the strange thought. It felt important in a way but he wasn't entirely sure how.

The crowds were thinning as he neared the edge of town. Goku glanced around, not sure exactly what he was looking for, but whatever he was subconsciously trying to find wasn't there. He gave a slight shrug before leaving the town completely.

There wasn't much out here; all around the town was pretty much forest, which was good when people wanted to hunt. Still, Goku felt more comfortable out here and away from people. He liked people just fine, but for some reason he always felt more at ease in the wilderness. It was a bit contradictory since he hated sleeping out there, but then Goku sometimes thought he was a contradiction in himself anyway.

He could hear a faint sound of running water. Goku started toward it, lunch all but forgotten for the time being. Somehow it wasn't the same complaining you were hungry when there was no one around to hear it.

The sound drew closer and soon enough Goku found himself stumbling upon a river. One look around told him all he needed to know: that nothing was there, not even a bird.

_Wow. That's not a little suspicious,_ he thought dryly, going to the edge of the river while pretending nothing was out of place. The water was clear, flowing so fast there were little white currents on the rim of the banks. Goku crouched down, testing the water with his hand and cringing; it was _freezing_. The water was very clear though and he saw no sign of animal life inside. _Must be where they get some of their water from..._

He found a rock lying nearby, picking it up and examining it. Goku calmly brushed off the dirt, pretending to be very interested in what he was doing. He smirked faintly, standing up and tossing it into nearby shrubbery.

Hard.

There was a loud _thwack!_ and an even louder curse. Goku snickered as a demon burst from the bush, a lovely red mark forming on his cheek as he glowered at Goku.

"You stupid bastard," he snarled.

"You were practically asking for it," Goku retorted. "No half-intelligent person would come here, not hearing any sounds of animals, and think everything was okay." There was one way Zenon's survival skills came in handy. Where there was a thick forest there was always the sound of some sort of animal: birds twittering, deer rustling leaves, crickets chirping, small noises. If not then all the animals had been killed off, which was either rarely because of human stupidity, or more commonly, demon stupidity.

Zenon never failed to remind him just how much he loathed demons.

"Ch'." The demon's eyes were focused on Goku but more on the area above his eyes. If he recognized the demon power limiter then he was probably a bit smarter than Goku would have originally given him credit for. "This comes from some idiot trying to pose as a human?"

Goku tilted his head, grinning. "What's with all the talking? You were hiding, obviously waiting to ambush someone... bet it's because of the rumor of gods coming to earth." It wasn't exactly uncommon for Homura's group to be approached by demons, sometimes even humans who refused to believe anything but the original rumors. Some wanted to get rid of them, as killing a god would surely give them a huge name, but most simply wanted immortality.

Homura and Shien had the power to grant it, this Goku knew. He didn't know if Zenon could, as he'd never seen or heard of the man doing it, and Goku was positive he himself couldn't. However Homura only granted divinity to those he believed would be useful to him and honestly wanted what he did. Shien was in perfect agreement with him there.

The demon sneered. "So you're one of them, are you? All right then, He Who Poses as a Human... I'll just kill you nice and easy and we'll see how much these gods will think of themselves afterwards."

What a complete and utter _moron_. Zenon would have shot him without second thought, Goku knew. Still he was getting bored and a little scuffle sounded fun.

The second the demon launched himself at the boy Goku quickly dodged, nearly slipping on the loose dirt beneath him. He found his ground quickly, calling forth his staff without a second thought. This time when the demon attacked he gave it a good, solid blow to the side. It went staggering back with a grunt of pain but didn't fall.

_He has good footing,_ he thought absently, this time using the staff for defense as the demon attempted to claw at him. All that happened was a surprisingly strong arm slamming into the side of the staff. _Kinda__ fast, but I can be faster. He knows his territory and I don't, and if he were a better fighter he'd have the advantage..._

Goku dodged a furious swipe easily, ignoring the snarl of frustration just before he slammed one end of the staff into the demon's gut. The creature coughed weakly, stumbling back, and Goku allowed it enough time to regain its bearings. Zenon and Shien were all for the rule "take them while they're down," but Goku found that in simple play like this he preferred Homura's tactic when the man was in a good mood: sit back, let them have a little time to recover their senses, and start all over again. It was a game, really, and a pretty unfair one since he knew what the outcome would be.

But Goku was bored, and he hated being bored. It had to be rectified _somehow_.

"Geez, that's all you've got?" he taunted, grinning as he brought his staff up to block a heavy swing. His staff was made of good, strong metal, perhaps something even tougher than that. It could block even Homura's attacks, so it blocked this moron easily. "Come on, you expect to take a god on with that kind of power?"

The demon snarled. "I'll kill you!" Goku simply smirked, moving back just in time to avoid a sharp slash of claws. Now he was just playing, not taking his opponent entirely seriously. He didn't let his guard down, but he allowed himself to relax a little.

"Damn it, start taking this seriously!" the demon shrieked, attacking with renewed fury.

The phrase drew up a memory from a training session with Homura once. It had been early on, only about a year or two ago. Goku had been attacking the man, but Homura would only dodge and smirk. Each amused chuckle would only annoy Goku further, making his attacks fiercer yet sloppier, though he hadn't noticed at the time.

_"Not fair! Start taking me seriously, Homura!"_

He could still remember the man's response; remember how Homura had caught his next punch instead of dodging it, gripping his fist so tightly it had made him cry out. The mismatched eyes had narrowed a bit, and he'd said...

"I'll take you seriously once you realize what you're up against," Goku echoed the words in his head, suddenly tired of this game. He stopped moving, rooting his feet in one place and watching the demon charge in rage. This demon was one of the typical ones, the kind that assumed that just because he was stronger than the average human he was stronger than anything...

It was a notion Goku killed the second his staff came crashing down on the demon's elbow. The scream that followed made him wince a bit but he didn't pull back until the blow was finished. The demon fell to the ground, writhing in agony as he clawed at his now broken arm.

Goku allowed his staff to vanish back to where he had called it from. It was a trick Homura had taught him once; though calling the weapon had been a complete surprise. When he asked Homura why he'd called a staff, of all things, the man had simply said it must be the perfect weapon for him. At first Goku hadn't believed it but by now he was very fond of his weapon. It could change length at his will, he never had any problems summoning or getting rid of it and it could be doubly useful in a huge fight since he could make it "split" into three pieces. All would be hooked together by a couple chains, giving him more flexibility to swing it where he chose.

_I'm hungry again,_ he realized, turning to head back to the village. _I hope that restaurant we went to yesterday has good lunch too..._

The rustling didn't disturb him; he _had_ left the moron squirming in agony on the ground. The sound was different from a person writhing on the ground and it took him too long to realize that. Goku spun just in time for two clawed fingers to catch under his diadem. He only had time to hiss as the nails scraped his forehead, but then there was only panic as his coronet was dislodged. He had no idea why but suddenly his mind was screaming, shrieking for him to put it back in place. Goku was already bringing his knee up into the demon's gut, dislodging him with a solid blow. He fell back to the ground, hands flying up to his diadem and pushing it back into place just before it could fall off.

Fury made him act before he thought. He scrambled up, finding the demon trying to sit up again. With a snarl Goku slammed his heavy boot into the idiot's face, holding nothing back. There wasn't even time for the demon to scream before his entire face was kicked in.

It wasn't until Goku had left the area only two feet behind before the reality of what he'd just done caught up with him. He staggered a moment, his hand slamming into a tree before he fell. The rough bark scraped his hand, making him flinch a bit. He was too busy trying to breathe properly to care at the moment. It wasn't because he'd killed the demon; simply that he was never that brutal. Quick, clean kills were a lot easier on his conscience.

But he'd just kicked the guy's face in... He probably wasn't even completely dead yet, just quietly gurgling in agony, unable to move because of the sheer amount of pain that had to cause. He wouldn't die right away.

He didn't care go back to see if he was okay. It would be stupid to do so, since he knew there was no way that demon would live much longer considering how hard he knew he could kick. Not only that, if he saw the actual extent of the damage he'd inflicted he very may well be sick. Goku didn't underestimate his own strength.

It took him only a minute to make his head stop spinning, and then he could look up so the world wasn't twirling. He blinked at the sight before him, unsure if he was hallucinating, and then blinked again. "What...?"

Homura stood before him, his expression unreadable. His already careless hair seemed even more tousled, as though he'd been in a hurry to get there. He strode toward the boy once Goku looked up, eyes flitting to the diadem before he murmured, "Good," absently, then he went past the boy.

Goku's stomach lurched. "Wait... don't..." His voice trailed off; Homura wasn't listening anyway. The man disappeared for a moment, coming back a short time later. His expression had changed a bit, enough to show sympathy.

"We'll have to leave by morning," he said. "We might as well go back so you can lie down; you seem ill."

Goku flinched. His murder would only intensify the rumors which was why Homura wanted to leave. He lowered his head, mumbling an apology.

A sudden push on his forehead forced Goku's head up. Homura's fingers were pressed against his diadem, his features drawn in a completely solemn and understanding look. "It could have been worse," the man said calmly. "Much worse. I'm thankful it's not. If you can walk we ought to head back now."

Goku nodded, letting his hand fall from the tree so he could stand upright. He wobbled a little but got control of his limbs quickly. He managed a small, tentative smile which, to his relief, Homura returned. The man gestured toward the river, but in a slightly different direction where the dead body lay.

"Clean off the blood in the river, and then we'll go."

------

It had been a call too close for Homura's blood. He partially wished that the surge of _not right_ that he'd suddenly felt had been in the form of a silent voice; that way he could probably "hear" her, or at least her ancestors, calling out to him and he would be able to find her resting place sooner.

Still, whatever it had made him leave right in the middle of a conversation, giving a vague excuse of having forgotten something important. The importance part was true; something bad was going to happen, or had happened right then. He hadn't dared phase out right in the middle of town so he had gone right to the outskirts, into the woods. Even then he didn't try the transportation trick, mostly because he wasn't even entirely sure where to go.

He was only feet away from the site before he realized what the feeling had been: Seiten Taisei. Either he was or had almost been almost called forth. Seconds later he found Goku leaning against the tree, trembling and with blood splattered from his right knee on down, but otherwise okay. The diadem was still intact, still in place, but Goku's hair was mussed enough for Homura to instantly know what had happened. Something or someone had nearly ripped it off and Goku had, miraculously, been able to keep it on.

That was a relief.

Leaving now would be an inconvenience, though Homura inwardly doubted it would make too much of a difference. He had zero leads in this place; it wasn't getting him any closer to _her_ resting place than he'd been five hundred years ago. And while she was important enough for him to spend so much time searching, Homura knew when his search was getting him nowhere-- though he was reluctant to admit it.

And then there was the other way Goku's killing had helped. He waited until they were back in the room before he did anything; Goku was sitting on his bed, removing his wet, cold jeans before he spoke, and what he said surprised himself. "Now you've killed in your first fit of rage." Goku looked up, seeming taken aback, but Homura continued on. "You're going to slip occasionally. That is what can happen when you let anger get the better of you. Do you understand?"

"Y-yeah," Goku said slowly, looking as though it was taking time for the man's words to sink in.

"This is one reason why Shien is always telling you to think before you act," Homura said. "Not just because you may make a mistake, but also because you may end up doing something irreversible before you think. Now that you've experienced it first-hand, do you truly understand?"

"Yeah..."

Homura allowed himself a small smirk. Goku seemed more dazed than sick now. The boy was doing well, at least. If he let something like that get the better of him than Homura would have overestimated some of the boy's abilities. He was pleased to see he hadn't. _You'll be perfect when the time comes, Son Goku..._

"Take a hot bath," Homura suggested. "After that I'll buy you something to eat. You must be hungry."

"Starving," Goku agreed, his smile much stronger than it had been back in the forest.

_Good,_ was all Homura thought. "Go on, then. I'll wait for you."

Goku nodded, about to slip into the bathroom to do just as the man had suggested, but just as he grabbed a fresh change of clothes he looked back at Homura. "Um..." His eyes lowered a moment, the strangest hint of red on the high points of his cheeks. "Thanks."

Saying nothing, Homura watched him disappear into the bathroom before he closed his eyes, feeling suddenly old and weary even as a self-mocking smirk touched his lips. _And so he still continues to throw out those hints... you play very unfairly, Son Goku, considering that I doubt you even know what you're doing._

"_Very_ unfairly," he agreed with himself aloud, with no one to hear him but the walls just as the sound of running water dimmed his voice.


	6. Chapter Six

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: R

Pairings: Homura/Rinrei, Homura/Goku, Goku/Homura

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, mild shounen ai, strong language

Beta-read by: Iapetus

Notes: The rating has officially been upped to "R."

As always, thanks for the many reviews, especially in the last chapter. I'm proud to say that this is my first (non-smutty) Homura/Goku fic to reach over 30 reviews. Thanks everyone!

And this time, a special thanks to giulia for letting me know that PW is appreciated in non-English speaking communities as well. :D (That, and you unintentionally amused me when I misread "take the hints" as "take the pants.")

Constructive criticism and feedback (as you people have been giving) are appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Six_

For some reason Zenon found himself cleaning his gun around dusk. The sun was nearly entirely gone, leaving only firelight from the campfire and the cold moonlight. He narrowed his eye at the gun in his hands, silently berating himself for not doing this in daylight when he could better see what he was doing. Well, better now than not at all. Tomorrow he planned to give a certain heretic a good run-through in survival training, and to do that his gun _always_ had to be in good shape.

The barest of presences caused him to glance up. He snorted softly. _Speaking of certain heretics..._

"Isn't it way past your bedtime," he sneered a bit, his gaze sliding back to his weapon of choice. He inwardly smirked at the look Goku threw him, catching it from the corner of his eye.

"Very funny," Goku grumbled, sitting down beside him. The boy picked up a long stick, poking at the fire. Zenon grunted in reply, not really having anything to say to that.

The kid was all right. He'd taken some getting used to, and he still didn't think the boy quite belonged, but he was all right. Zenon could think of several worse people, though his opinion had been quite different three years ago...

"Zenon?"

That tone was only too familiar. He didn't bother hiding his exasperated sigh; still he didn't pause in his work. "Okay, what dirty secret are you trying to dig up on Homura this time?"

"I don't dig up his dirty secrets," Goku said indignantly.

"Asking about his past is pretty much the same thing," Zenon pointed out, scoffing. "Why the hell don't you ask him directly?"

"Homura never tells me anything," Goku mumbled.

"Huh. Ever thought that maybe he had a good reason?"

Goku chose not to answer that, much to Zenon's amusement and annoyance. "It's not about his past this time... I just wanted to know..." The boy's voice trailed off; he fidgeted a bit. Zenon shot a sideways glance at him, twitching slightly as the kid took his damn sweet time trying to get the words out. "I mean... I know he's looking for a woman and all, and--"

"Digging up his past again," Zenon muttered, just barely audible enough for Goku to hear.

"I am not!" He waited for Goku to try to organize his thoughts, getting even more exasperated as the seconds went into minutes. At least the kid didn't get on his nerves as much as he used to; _that_ had made everything pretty tense, and he still wasn't sure if Homura had forgiven him for getting Goku lost like that the one time.

_Though it was really his fault for not paying attention,_ he thought cynically. _He was too absent-minded... damn idiot sometimes still is._ The silent insults weren't _entirely_ venomous...

"Does Homura like girls?"

Zenon blinked, not certain he heard that right. He shot Goku a skeptical look, staring a moment before he asked, "Why the hell does it matter?" When all Goku did was shrug he rolled his eye, resisting the urge to thwap the boy on the head. "He's been with one. That's all I know and more than I needed to know."

"But he's your friend..." Goku trailed off uncertainly.

"Yeah, but I'm not poking around in his sexual life just because I can," Zenon said acidly. "I really don't give a damn, and whatever I do know about the one woman is none of your business."

Goku sighed, resting his chin on his arms as golden eyes fixated on the fire. "I guess," he mumbled, poking idly at the burning wood. Zenon went back to his earlier task. By the time he was finished the sun had slipped over the horizon and all that lit and warmed them was the slowly dying fire.

The next question wasn't as startling as the last. "Is... Homura mad at me?"

"About what?" Zenon drawled, growing bored. Honestly, he was up to keep watch, not to be some go-between two hormonal males. "Your brutally murdering that last demon -- which, by the way, I thought the disgusting bastard only deserved -- or your annoying antics at the last village?"

He saw the boy rub the back of his head, looking both annoyed and sheepish. "The last one," he muttered in a barely audible voice.

Zenon glanced to where Homura was lying; when the man didn't move, he turned his gaze back to Goku, shrugging nonchalantly. "Who knows? Why don't you ask him yourself?" Goku turned his head away at that, a small frown on his lips. Zenon made a rude noise, resuming in cleaning his gun.

Finally he put his hand on the back of Goku's head, giving him a none-too-light shove. "Hey. Go to sleep, dammit. I'm the one on watch for the first part of tonight, you little brat."

"Not a brat," Goku said crossly, but he got up anyway, waving vaguely to the man before stumbling back to his sleeping area. Homura and Shien were supposedly asleep, though Zenon knew better. When he looked over the opposite way Goku had gone he caught a single gold eye gleaming in the firelight.

_Kid's already got something, and you know it._ He didn't say the words aloud though, simply gave Homura a knowing smirk before searching for his lighter and cigarettes. His peripheral vision caught the man smirking back, though Homura didn't seem quite as amused as he did.

_Damn,_ Zenon thought ruefully, taking a calming drag of nicotine. _Kid's__ gonna make the next week or so hell; I can feel the sexual tension already..._

_------_

"That fucking brat!"

The explosion came as a start; despite his brash attitude, Zenon wasn't the type to have random outbursts like that. Homura glanced up; arching an eyebrow as the fuming god came storming out of the woods where he was supposed to be giving Goku a lesson.

"Something wrong?" he inquired, unsure whether or not to be amused.

"Yeah," Zenon snarled, his visible knuckles white from gripping the machine gun on his shoulder too tight. "That fucking brat ran off!"

Homura's eyes narrowed a bit. "Define 'run off,' " he said quietly. "Do you mean he ran away from you or just disappeared in the middle of the lesson?"

The words only served to annoy Zenon more, but the man was smart enough not to snap at Homura for it. "He might as well have," he said. "Damn kid was there, and I fuckin' told him not to wander too far off until I gave him further instructions. So what does the moron do? Run right off! When I get my hands on that kid," Zenon muttered, seething and storming past Homura, into the woods on the other side of their campsite. They had chosen to make camp in a clearing in the middle of the woods, mostly because it was the ideal place to train the boy.

Sighing, Homura shook his head. There was no cause for alarm yet, and nothing really felt out of place. It was likely the boy was just being his usual mischievous self... and really, how was Homura supposed to get angry with that? It was something he liked about Goku.

He checked the sky, determining he had enough time between now and lunch to get some of his own training done. Homura stood, making his way through the woods in search of another clearing. Bigger or smaller, it didn't matter either way. He just needed a different area to practice in.

As the God of War he had to hone certain skills. One 'gift' the heavens had given him was a sword similar to that of the previous war god's, Nataku. This one was considerably larger, made for his size, and had been enhanced a bit. Homura knew a trick or two, enough to turn an ordinary lethal sword into an unordinary, twice as lethal fire sword.

Homura removed his cape as he walked, folding it over his arm. His gaze wandered as he idly searched for the ideal place to practice. He had nearly perfected the art of his sword and then some, but he refused to let his techniques falter because he didn't exercise his skills often enough. They had to be perfect, had to be exact. Homura was by no means a ruthless killer, and he wanted to avoid killing if he could. He knew how to deliver a fatal blow, but also gave his adversaries a chance to live, sometimes even a second chance. Perhaps honor was something a god of war shouldn't have had, but Homura had never asked for the title.

He came across an empty area soon enough. Homura paused long enough to listen for animals. There were a few birds that fluttered past, but nothing dangerously close. He then called forth his weapon, drawing it from the hidden pocket of space. There was honestly no other way to describe it. Homura didn't know exactly where his sword disappeared to, he simply knew that when he called for it, it materialized in his hand. When he willed it away, it faded out into nonexistence. By now it was a trick he could do as easily as breathing, but mastering it hadn't been easy.

Though, impressively enough, Goku had caught on easily when Homura had taught it to him.

Homura draped his cloak over a low-hanging branch before walking a fair distance away from it. He grasped the hilt of the sword, falling into a stance. He rarely took on the same pose when he was preparing to attack something. Homura preferred to have no set pattern, to always set his opponent off their guard at least a little. Many times he wouldn't even take a stance; he'd simply stand there, smirking and waiting to be attacked-- or, if the wait grew to be too long, to attack on his own.

He swung the blade once with both arms, then let go and swung with his left. He quickly switched hands, swinging through the air with his right hand. The first and third time he'd made absolutely no sounds, but the second time he could hear the sword swish through the air. _Work on that,_ he decided, switching hands again. This time he swung several times in succession, working on making the sound absolutely silent.

There was no real reason for it, as he never assassinated and this didn't have to be silent, but Homura still wanted to assure himself that he could do it. It gave him confidence, a thing he was meticulously careful to never over- or underestimate about himself-- or anyone else. Shien, for example, was also meticulously careful about it, but would occasionally underestimate himself when the guilt he felt got to him too much. Zenon, on the other hand, would occasionally overestimate himself, though the last time that had happened had been a long time ago, and had been over something rather personal to the man.

Still, over- or underestimating could always prove to be a fatal mistake. Homura didn't intend to die until he was ready.

That was why he wanted to make his perfect world.

Homura paused, realizing that he had stopped his training at some point. He shook his head, pushing aside any unnecessary thought before beginning again. The sword made no sound, and he moved on through the basic moves he knew as well as the back of his hand. After that he went through more complicated maneuvers, many of them ridiculous moves he would never use in real combat. Nevertheless, there was always the off-chance it would come in handy, and he didn't intend that off-chance to catch _him_ by surprise.

He wanted to create his perfect world for purely selfish reasons. The simplest explanation was that he wanted to overthrow the heavens. Nearly everyone up there was an incompetent fool, and most who weren't were either inactive or had been reincarnated. All the other gods were obsessed with power, using it to their advantage to get what they wanted.

And yet, ironically enough, it was the gods forced to reincarnate that had been the happiest. Like Kenren Taishou, Tenpou Gensui, Konzen Douji...

And one other.

Homura immediately shoved that thought aside; that would only ruin his concentration. He focused on his moves again, but once again found his thoughts slipping back to the reasons he wanted his perfect world-- among other things, such as what was needed for him to make it.

He needed three things if he was to make this world, two of which he doubted would be difficult to obtain. All he had to do was give as fair a fight as he could (being the war god and infinitely stronger than both average humans and demons, very few fights could be called fair) and they would be his. They were the Seiten and Maten scriptures, the founding heavenly scriptures of heaven and earth. One to banish the darkness, one to create light.

The third thing he needed was an abundant supply of power-- and that he'd glimpsed in heaven, and now practically held in his hands.

Homura needed Seiten Taisei's power.

It was almost by pure chance he'd even seen the power in the first place. It had been during a festival in heaven, only a little over five hundred years ago. A fight had broken out-- why exactly Homura wasn't sure, but he was able to see that Goku had been the one to start the physical blows. Whatever the case, whatever the reason, Homura didn't care because it had given him a decent display of Son Goku's raw, undiluted power.

Power that, Homura realized later on, would help him immensely in his cause.

There were several drawbacks, of course, and the biggest one was the betrayal factor. Technically it wasn't betrayal at all. Homura had never promised to stay with the boy forever, and the deal he'd made with Goku was that Homura would free him if Goku would help him in his cause any way he could.

Still, technicalities wouldn't smooth things over. It was the only thing that made Homura dread the day he was preparing so hard for. Once you lost Son Goku's trust it was nearly impossible to get it back. To do that you had to be his Sun.

Homura wasn't the boy's Sun.

The sun was setting into evening by the time Homura was satisfied he had practiced enough. He let his sword fade back to the hidden space it had come from before going to collect his cloak. He had to pause; a couple of small chipmunks had nestled comfortably on the fabric, chittering softly to each other. Homura watched for a moment, mildly amused, before giving one a nudge with his finger. It started, gave him a look, and then made a louder chittering noise to its companion before they rocketed off into the tree. Shaking his head, Homura pulled his cloak off the branch, unfolded it, and swept it over his shoulders before heading back to camp.

A camp, he was surprised to see, that still had no Goku. There was the ever-calm appearance of Shien and the obviously irked presence of Zenon, but no Goku.

"Didn't find him?" he asked casually, taking a seat.

Zenon muttered a foul curse. "No," he practically spat. "I was all over the damn forest and the bastard couldn't be found anywhere."

"So he has made some use of what I've taught him," Shien said quietly, his voice portraying none of the mild surprise Homura instinctively knew the man felt. He smirked a bit, eyes flickering back to the woods.

"Well, he'll come back when he's hungry," he said calmly. Homura stood again, but paused when Zenon spoke in a suddenly grim tone.

"And if he doesn't?"

Homura said nothing at first. He stared down at the fire for a moment, a fire that was normally only started because Goku would complain of the cold. As gods, he, Shien, and Zenon didn't have an issue with things such as weather, but Goku wasn't a god. He never was. He was merely heretical, which in a sense made him only human.

At last, he said calmly, "If he doesn't, we'll simply find him when we need to use him."

Zenon made a rude noise of disbelief and seemed ready to make a smart remark, but his silence told Homura that Shien had given him one of those silencing looks again.

"Understood," was Shien's answer for both of them.

Homura turned back, moving to the fire and rolling a stone onto it. The flames went down almost immediately, and with another two stones they all but died.

"He can find his way back in the dark," he said quietly. "Regardless whether he's back by morning or not, we move on."

Homura knew he had unconsciously chosen his words carefully. He hadn't said he may look for the boy on his own time, or said whether or not they'd be moving on with their plans or merely moving on to find Son Goku again. Quite honestly, he wasn't sure either.

Being unsure of himself was one thing Homura truly couldn't stand.

------

It was well into the night when Homura found himself waking for no reason whatsoever. None of them were on watch; there was no point if Son Goku wasn't there, because the boy was really the only reason they were on watch in the first place. Goku was more than capable of taking care of himself, yes, but he was still vital to Homura's plans. They couldn't afford any setbacks, and silent assassination was definitely considered a setback.

He remained quiet for a few moments before he heard evidence that his waking hadn't been entirely by accident. There was a faint rustling that sounded suspiciously similar to a human-like footstep. Homura didn't move, hardly even changed his breathing pattern. He even kept his eyes closed, waiting...

Then there was a soft, barely audible sigh, and then the sound of someone kneeling down. Grass rustled just in front of Homura. The man tilted his head slightly, finally opening his eyes. He watched for a reaction, but the intruder didn't seem to be looking at him. Finally he sat up, and the intruder's head shot up in surprise.

"Good evening," he said calmly, quietly. "Or rather, morning. I do believe that's the sun I see rising."

Goku gave him a faint smile that looked unusually pained. "I'll bet," the boy said, his voice slightly hoarse. "Been walking all night..."

"And where have your journeys taken you, Son Goku?"

The boy shook his head, lowering his gaze again. Homura heard slight muffled noises, saw the boy's shoulders shaking. Goku wasn't crying, but he was obviously tired and not entirely emotionally stable. The boy probably hadn't slept since the night before.

"Back to the village."

The answer came as a bit of a surprise. "What was waiting for you there?"

"Nothing," Goku admitted, shifting so he could draw his knees up to his chest. "I went back... to ask some things." Homura frowned slightly, not sure he understood. As though sensing his confusion, Goku added, "I wanted to make sure you didn't miss out on a single lead. I don't know who or what you're looking for, but... I tried anyway."

_Helping me search... for her resting place,_ Homura realized. Goku had skipped his lesson just to go back to do that?

"Not a single lead," the boy muttered, resting his forehead on his arms. "How can you stand that? We probably go from village to village, and you hardly ever find anything... how can you _stand_ that?" His voice was beginning to crack a bit.

Homura shook his head, resting a hand on Goku's shoulder. "You should rest," he said gently. "We'll skip today's lesson. Just rest."

Goku didn't seem to be listening. "I had to make up for being a brat last time... I couldn't." He leaned against the man then, slight tremors shaking his body, but still no tears came forth. "I'm sorry, Homura..."

Admittedly unsure of what to do right away, Homura simply let the boy lean against him. He found himself rubbing Goku's back, the gesture meant to calm. It seemed effective; the tremors died down and Goku's rigid body gradually went lax. Soon enough he had fallen asleep, which came as a relief to the half-heretic.

Once he was positive the boy wasn't going to stir, Homura shifted Goku off him. He scooted away from his makeshift bed, lying the boy down. Goku murmured softly, curling up as though in attempt to warm himself. Homura couldn't help but smile faintly at the sight. He pulled a blanket over the boy, then stood and moved to start the fire again.

Come morning he knew what would happen. Shien would be exasperated but keep it to himself, only expressing his feelings through carefully chosen words and a few glances. Zenon would berate the boy, definitely get into a fight with him, and Homura would end up chuckling over their antics.

He also knew that Goku would be embarrassed by his display of emotion and probably avoid him a bit, but Homura was familiar enough with that to know how to deal with it. Make a few off-handed remarks, act as though he hadn't seen a thing, and the boy would be back to himself in no time.

However, Homura wasn't so sure things could go back to normal, not after that display. He was sure, more than ever now, that Son Goku's feelings toward him were growing to be anything but platonic. He was also less sure, more than ever, about his own decision to keep things strictly ideal.

Never let it be said that a heretic's supposed luck ever caused anything less than chaos.


	7. Chapter Seven

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG

Pairings: Gojyo/Hakkai

Beta-read by: Iapetus

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language

Notes: My apologies for the chapter being a day late. My beta-reader's been busy, so I've been making sure she only did this on her own time. Much luff to her for getting this done anyway.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Seven_

The ride in the jeep was almost deathly silent. The atmosphere was tense, but he'd come to expect that when the three of them were together. Sighing heavily, Gojyo shifted in the backseat, absolutely bored beyond all reason.

And their driver was in such a foul mood that he would probably bury a bullet in Gojyo's skull should he even accidentally set him off. In some ways, Gojyo couldn't blame him. It wasn't every day someone from your past came back to haunt you, and it certainly wasn't every day that you discovered someone you used to consider your friend was now someone you couldn't hope to trust.

It most likely didn't ease Sanzo's conscience at all when he'd shot Rikudo dead between the eyes. All in all, the encounter had been brief but chilling. Gojyo had the disturbing feeling that things should have been different, that they shouldn't have ended so quickly or so easily.

It shouldn't have ended in such cold-blooded murder.

Sometimes Gojyo felt the entire trip was off. One of their first stops had been at a town about a week from Chang'an called Kouchin. There they'd chanced across a girl named Houmei, and there the first real attempted assassination had occurred. Houmei, like most humans nowadays, hated demons for what they had become after the Minus Waves had rolled over the area.

That incident hadn't ended too well; the spider-woman attempting to assassinate them had been a bit of a hassle to defeat, what with Gojyo having to both distract _and_ go in for the kill while Sanzo chanted the movement-binding scriptures and Hakkai protected Houmei and her father. When they had left Houmei still seemed to have a bitter opinion about demons, regardless that two had helped to save her life. Sanzo's response to that was that she simply wasn't worth it.

For a while things had seemed to get a bit tenser. Despite Sanzo's words, Houmei's bitterness toward them seemed to have left its mark, and even Sanzo was affected. It was easy to tell by the shortening of his already worn temper, and Hakkai said he could tell by the number of cigarettes he smelled Sanzo smoking.

Things would get even worse when they had to travel over landscape too rocky for Hakuryuu -- Hakkai's pet dragon that could conveniently turn into a jeep -- couldn't drive on. During those times there was the issue of baggage to worry about. Asking Hakkai was out of the question for two reasons. The first was that he was blind, and still adjusting to moving around without sight, and adjusting yet again to his strange ability to "see" solid things. The second was that Hakkai was simply the sort of person you didn't ask to do work. If he wanted to do it, he would; if not, he wouldn't, and if you dared ask him you may not live to regret it.

So that would leave Sanzo and Gojyo to get into arguments that Hakkai would always smooth over (though each time the "smoothing over" seemed to become more and more strained). In the end one or the other would end up with the indignity and if it was Sanzo, Gojyo had the admittedly stupid tendency to poke fun at the man. He couldn't _help_ it, really. Gojyo was bored; he had to tease someone, make use of the smart-ass remarks that seemed to come to him at random. However, there was that aura around Hakkai that told you it would be suicidal to even try it. At least with Sanzo it was only mortally wounding.

Gojyo shifted restlessly, glancing out the side of the jeep as he tried to distract himself again. The smart-ass remarks were building up again, and if he didn't divert his thoughts he knew he'd more than likely end up sporting a nice scar compliments of a certain trigger-happy priest's gun.

But what was there to think about? There had been a temple they'd come across once when in need of lodgings, but the pretentious assholes there couldn't have people like _them_ marring their precious grounds. They had ended up camping out a little ways out, and in the middle of the night had been attacked by another assassin. In a sore mood because of the rocky camp-out, none of the three had been in the mood for playful banter and had gone right at him.

In the end, Sanzo had attempted to interrogate the assassin about his leader (who, from what Gojyo had been able to gather at the time, was a demon prince by the name of Kougaiji) but the interrogation had ended in the self-destruction of their adversary.

Considering that explosion had taken out a good deal of supplies, even Hakkai was in a bad mood by morning.

The trip had been uneventful for a while after that. Gojyo had spotted a few girls, naturally, and there had been a particularly attractive one at a river they had passed shortly after the second assassination incident. However, he never really seemed to have any time to flirt, have fun, and basically just relieve some sexual tension-- not to mention normal mental and emotional tension, which Sanzo was so keen on causing him.

Then they had met Kougaiji.

Gojyo had never really expected such a cute waitress to attack them, but she had apparently been a demon working directly beneath Kougaiji. Her tactics, when the party had learned of them, had been clever. She was going to poison their food, which would kill both demons and humans effectively. However, she didn't seem to have counted on the idiots at the bar picking a fight -- a big mistake on their part -- much less for them to take them up on the fight.

Gojyo had blacked out at some point, later learning from Hakkai that she'd used a potion to put them to sleep. When he'd woken up Hakkai had been fighting the waitress outside, and her failed attempts to kill them had nearly driven her to suicide. Luckily for her, she'd been saved by her leader: Kougaiji.

That had ended shortly; Kougaiji had simply and tersely explained he was there for his subordinate, nothing else. With some mild banter on his and Sanzo's part, he and the waitress had finally left, and that was the end of that-- for now.

And about five days after that they had met -- and in Sanzo's case, was reunited with -- Rikudo. Now they were on their way west again, and the tension thrummed so thick Gojyo could easily bite into it. It tasted bitter and sour.

He shifted his leg, feeling agitated. There was so much damn _room_ in the back seat. He supposed he shouldn't have been complaining, but it was just too damn quiet, too damn spacious, and too damn _tense_. It would probably drive him mad soon-- probably drive them all mad. Hakkai wouldn't be excluded; in fact, he would quite possibly be the first to go. While Gojyo trusted the man, he also knew that Hakkai was a lot more emotionally fragile then either of his other companions.

Unless there was something he didn't know about Sanzo, that is. And knowing what he did about Sanzo, there probably was more than just one thing Gojyo was missing out on.

Not that he cared about _that_ asshole, either way.

"What we need," he said suddenly, unthinkingly, "is a punching bag. A living, breathing punching bag to beat the shit out of when we're stressed."

At first he thought Sanzo might very well shoot him, but Hakkai's thoughtful response surprised him. "Well, that's one way to put it, though I'm sure I wouldn't need one."

"Well, the monk and I could use him," Gojyo said easily. "And you can be the loving mother and take him under your wing."

Sanzo snorted, sounding exasperated when he spoke. "You sound so damn sure it would be a man."

"Not a man, a boy," Gojyo corrected. Yes, he had it in his mind's eye already. "Like hell I'd use a girl for a punching bag, no matter how much of a bitch she was. I'm not Sanzo." He didn't have to see the monk's face to know he was twitching.

The drive lapsed into silence, though for some reason it felt a bit lighter. When there was conversation again it was, amazingly enough, initiated by Sanzo.

"An idiot," the man said suddenly, not once taking his eyes off the road. "Knowing our luck, he'd be a complete moron."

"Especially after we beat him," Gojyo agreed.

Hakkai chuckled softly. "Knowing you two, I probably _would_ end up being the one to take his side, simply because you two will keep picking on him."

"Nah; you're a fair parent," Gojyo said with a wave of his hand. "You'd take whoever's side was most just."

"Is that so?"

"Yup."

The silence returned again, once again more comfortable than the previous. Gojyo found himself smirking faintly; perhaps that really was what they needed. The mere thought had lightened the mood; what would the real thing do?

He frowned a bit, swerving to lie down across the back of the jeep, crossing his legs at the ankles and dangling his feet over one side. "Pity we don't have him, eh?"

From that point on, Sanzo's mood only worsened yet again.

------

He was careful to take the scriptures off first, but once they were gently set aside Sanzo didn't care about the rest of his attire. He practically tore his robes trying to get them off, grunting in frustration as he tossed the resulting ball of cloth in the corner of the room. It hit the floor with a soft _thud_, but didn't do one bit to ease his mood.

_Idiot just had to say something, didn't he?_ Sanzo thought irritably, kicking his sandals off before he lay down on the bed. _Damn idiot just had to open his mouth._

He was in a bad mood, to put it lightly, and he had no doubt that even strangers knew it just by looking at him. It had been so easy to pull the trigger and kill Shuuei—so easy. It had been too damn easy. It unsettled Sanzo. It was like he had no conscience. It was one thing to kill a demon after your life, but an old friend after someone else's life…

Why had it been so damn easy to shoot him? Sanzo didn't regret it, he was simply disturbed at how short and simple it had been. Shuuei had used the Curse of Araya, a forbidden talisman that had ultimately eaten away at the man's body and soul until there was nothing left of Shuuei but an empty, demon-murdering shell named Rikudo.

Perhaps it most unsettled Sanzo because he had intervened on the fight. Rikudo had moved to attack Hakkai, and while normally Sanzo would leave the other two to their own devices, curiosity had forced him to step in and block the attack, demanding to know what had happened to Shuuei.

_"Oh, I haven't changed. Shuuei is _dead_. He died seven years ago. That day you'd left the temple!"_

There Sanzo had learned that the very night he'd descended mountain of the Kinzan temple the demons that had killed his master had returned for the scripture they had missed—the scripture that had, coincidentally, been given to Sanzo the very night of his master's death.

He knew very well that even if he had stayed there wouldn't have been a thing he could have done about the attack. In fact, the situation would have worsened. The demons would have killed him and taken the scriptures, quite possibly before Shuuei could use the Curse of Araya and kill them.

All this Sanzo already knew. His past wasn't what was bothering him at the moment. It was Gojyo's strange choice of conversation in the jeep that afternoon that was bothering him.

Part of the reason was because just about everything the man had said actually sounded good. You couldn't use Hakkai for a verbal punching bag; that would end in your death. Arguing with Gojyo only left him feeling even more frustrated. But if there were a younger person, a boy who wouldn't let biting remarks get to him so easily…

There was something else they were lacking. It wasn't a peacemaker; Hakkai played that part the best he could, even though it was clearly becoming more and more difficult. It wasn't really the punching bag either. There was just a sense of something missing; the absence of an important presence. Sanzo wasn't entirely certain what that presence had to be, but he had the strange feeling that if he ever encountered it he would know instinctively.

_Damn it, Gojyo,_ he thought in annoyance, sitting on the edge of the bed and slipping out of his sandals. _Your idiocy is rubbing off on me._

It was pointless to ponder on the issue any further. Sanzo touched the knob of the gas lamp, turning it off with a flick of the wrist. The room was then doused in darkness.

It wasn't until his head touched the pillow that the voice filtered into his thoughts again.

------

"What made you bring that up earlier?"

Gojyo blinked, roused from his bored stupor as Hakkai spoke. The man was sitting on his bed, back resting against the wall, his face turned toward his companion. As always, his eyes were unfocused and unseeing. "Pardon?" the half-breed asked, not sure he understood.

"When you mentioned your 'living, breathing punching bag,' " Hakkai reminded him patiently. "What brought that up?"

Gojyo shrugged, leaning his elbow against the windowpane. He shifted on his own bed, trying to find a comfortable position to relax in to. "Dunno. Been thinkin' about it a while, I guess," he said casually, narrowing his eyes. "Why?"

"Just wondered," Hakkai murmured, though his expression said otherwise.

"If you could play poker, your face would suck," Gojyo said flatly.

Hakkai smiled faintly. "I actually used to be a very apt player."

Gojyo grimaced, remembering the few short weeks before Sanzo had come looking for Cho Gonou. "Don't remind me; I remember."

"That is what we need though, isn't it?" Hakkai mused. "I'm sure you've noticed it; Sanzo too. That we're missing something vital-- some_one_."

"Like we're destined to meet some special princess that will magically make our already screwed up group holy and complete," Gojyo said sarcastically. "Oh yeah. I know what you mean. But usually I can solve that issue by getting laid."

Hakkai didn't have to see to give Gojyo a piercing look; he did that just fine with the slight drawing down of his eyebrows and a small frown on his lips. "I'm serious, Gojyo."

The other man shrugged, glancing out the window. It was already nightfall, not really too late for him to go on a nightly conquest, but he somehow wasn't in the mood that night. He tapped the windowsill lightly, thrumming his fingers on it before finally speaking. "Not much we can do about it. We don't even know what to look for."

"Hm..." Hakkai grew quiet a moment. "I suppose we can only wait, then."

"Guess so," Gojyo agreed, though he knew neither of them were too optimistic about finding this mysterious presence they were lacking. Too much shit had happened in their lives to give them that sort of optimism. And thinking on it any more would only make it result in disappointment in the end.

It was time for a distraction.

He stood up. "Wait here; I have an idea," he said, striding for the door before Hakkai could comment. He moved briskly down the hallway, seeking out the innkeeper. After a brief conversation (and some flirting with his daughter) Gojyo went back to the room, his arms full. He had to kick the door and call for Hakkai to open it.

Hakkai couldn't see what he was holding, but seemed to sense Gojyo was had _something_. "What is that?" he asked curiously, cautiously taking his seat on the bed again.

"Be patient," Gojyo muttered, taking his time setting it up. Once he was satisfied he turned on the contraption, set the needle on the disc, and soft music floated in the air.

Hakkai's eyebrows rose; Gojyo was both amused and annoyed that his roommate couldn't hide his own amusement. "Ah. This is pretty fine music for your tastes, Gojyo."

"Shut up." Gojyo took a seat beside Hakkai, folding his arms behind his head as he made himself comfortable against the wall. "Stone chimes," he said suddenly as the sound fluttered out toward them.

From the corner of his eye he saw Hakkai smile. "Guhzeng," he said just as he heard the multi-stringed instrument play. It seemed he'd quickly caught on to the game. For Gojyo it wasn't the best way to pass time, but it was fairly relaxing, and he wasn't in the mood for anything too strenuous. Besides, Hakkai seemed to be enjoying himself, so...

"Sheng."

"Ruan."

"Sanxian."

The game went on like that, with more and more relaxing pauses between various instruments. The night was looking out to be very peaceful.

The sudden yelling next door ruined it, and before they could reach the door of the room they heard a loud crash.

------

It was so damn loud. Growling, Sanzo turned over on his stomach, hands clasped over his ears. He knew it would do him little to no good, but the damn voice just wouldn't shut _up_.

_Shut up, shut up, shut _up_, damn it_, he thought angrily, clenching his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. Inwardly yelling at the voice was doing him no good; it just whimpered soundlessly.

"Shut up," he snarled aloud. "Shut up!" The whimpers only grew louder in response, and Sanzo returned the shouts in kind. Soon enough the voice in his head had reached a horrible, mind-wrenching scream. Sheer agony, sorrow, and loneliness tore at him, making him feel helpless, so like that one night...

"_SHUT THE HELL UP!_"

He swung out of pure frustration. His clenched fist hit the glass of water on his bedside table, sending it flying to the wall. It shattered upon impact.

The door swung open. He was dimly aware of Hakkai and Gojyo yelling his name, telling him to get a grip on himself. Sanzo shoved at them when they tried to hold him down. He didn't want people touching him. He _hated_ people touching him.

The voice seemed to quiet when he wasn't yelling at it; he finally mustered up a glare, giving Gojyo and Hakkai a warning look. He didn't have to say, "Get out," for them to understand. Hakkai could likely feel his need to be alone, and even Gojyo knew which lines not to cross.

They both left.

Sanzo was curled up on the bed, knees to his chest as he sat there rigidly, trying to breathe properly. The voice wasn't whimpering or screaming anymore. Oddly enough, he didn't hear it, yet he knew it was still there. If it had been in the shape of a person, the person would have been rubbing his back or stroking his hair, trying to soothe him.

Sanzo shuddered, wishing there was a way to push that presence away. Even as it was calming it was also unnerving. He wanted it to go away as much as he wanted it to stay. And Sanzo hated it for that.


	8. Chapter Eight

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG

Pairings: Homura/Goku, Goku/Homura

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, shounen ai

Beta-read by: Iapetus

Notes: Wow. The amount of reviews for the previous chapter really surprised me. I wasn't aware so many people were reading this. Awesome, because I really want to spread the love of both my favorite characters and one of my favorite pairings. I'm also muchly enjoying the well-rounded criticism and feedback! Thank you so much, guys. As you know, it's very much appreciated. Hugs and hearts to all of you, and also to my beta-girl for taking time out of her busy schedule to help me with this.

* * *

_Chapter Eight_

The next day went on almost exactly as Homura had presumed it would. Shien and Zenon showed no surprise at Goku's return, though Zenon shot Homura a look as though to ask, "When the hell did this happen?" They let the boy sleep in upon Homura's request, but the instant Goku was awake Zenon was on him, berating him for skipping out on the lesson, then getting into a fight with the boy when Goku threw Homura's pillow at him to shut him up.

He was also correct in assuming Goku would be embarrassed about his act the previous night. The boy kept avoiding his gaze, his answers coming out a bit quieter than usual when Homura spoke to him. Homura noted Zenon rolled his eyes at the sudden change, but he just took it into stride, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary.

This, admittedly, was getting more and more difficult. It was when he kept catching Goku watching him when he thought Homura wasn't looking that made it difficult. It wasn't annoying, but it was worrisome and caused Homura a headache, mostly because he was very well aware that he didn't mind the idea of Goku having stronger feelings for him-- or, bluntly put, in love with him.

Homura didn't like to be blunt.

He was relieved when Zenon bullied Goku into going into the woods with him. "To finish your damn lesson, you brat," he heard the man snap when Goku protested.

"No way! Homura said I could skip that today!"

"Yeah, well you sure as hell ain't bedridden, and you haven't been talkin' to Homura, either," Zenon growled, giving Goku a shove toward the forest. "And I swear, if you run off this time I'll damn well kill you!"

"Gods, you suck," Goku said in disgust, reluctantly doing as his instructor told him.

Zenon glanced back at Homura, who smirked approvingly. "Don't let him get lazy," was Homura's only response to his actions.

"Hmph. Like hell I would," Zenon said in his round-about way of agreeing. He went after the boy.

Homura shook his head, standing. It would probably do good to see what town they were going to next; if it was an ideal place to stop, they would. Of not... well, Son Goku's training could extend a bit longer.

"What are you going to do?"

He paused, only turning his head slightly to give Shien a sideways look. "I'll first assume you mean the boy," he said calmly, "then ask if you're talking about his training or his behavior."

"His behavior," Shien replied quietly, tilting his head toward the half-heretic without opening his eyes. "You know what I'm talking about. You also know as well as I do that it is not wise to start anything at this point, Homura."

Smirking, Homura nodded. "I agree. It isn't wise at all." Then he shrugged, adding, "Of course, what's wise and what's wanted are two entirely different things."

"Even if it ends up hurting him?"

Homura turned to give his companion a full amused look. "I wasn't aware you cared."

"I do," Shien said, his tone still relatively mild. "Because in the end, it won't end happily for you... will it?"

Homura blinked, raising an eyebrow. Despite his expression, Shien's words stirred a quiet discomfort. He shook his head, ridding himself of such thoughts for the time being. "I'll be back later."

To his immense relief, Shien said no more as he left the campsite.

------

He had been so blissfully asleep until the heavy boot connected with his side. Yelping, Goku grabbed at his now hurting ribs, blinking sleep out of his eyes as he glared up at Zenon, cursing his wake-up call.

Zenon wasn't perturbed. "About damn time. Homura's waiting for you."

"Coulda jus' _said_ so," Goku grumbled, wincing as he pushed himself up. He rubbed his eyes, feeling a bit more awake-- and a bit more cranky. He yawned widely, intending to ask if he could take a bath before the lesson, but Zenon shoved what seemed to be a meat bun in his mouth, nearly making him choke.

"No whining," the man said firmly. "And no dawdling. Homura's got a new thing for you today, so get off your lazy ass and get going."

"You're the lazy ass," Goku muttered around the meat bun, earning a thwack upside the head.

"Whatever. Just get going, will you?" Zenon pushed him off toward the woods. Wearily hoping it was the right direction and not another prank, Goku followed his indicated path. The trees seemed to thin out the more he went along, but there were no places he could label as a clearing. He stumbled over a large tree root at one point, catching himself on his hands before his face could connect with the ground.

_Geez__ Where the hell is he?_ Goku wondered crossly, dusting himself off as he got back up. He continued walking and eventually found a gentle stream, but still no sign of Homura. There was no sign of anything aside from a few gentle chirps of early-morning birds.

Then a hand connected with his back, sending him splashing into the river.

_Dah__! Cold!_ was Goku's first silent reaction. His second was to flail until he surfaced, gasping for air and shivering from the cold. The river wasn't deep, only coming up to his chest, but it was thankfully deep enough so that he hadn't hurt himself when he was pushed in.

Then he noticed Homura looking rather amused on the riverbank. Growling, he waded through the water, splashing to shore. "You jerk! That was cold!"

"But you are more awake," Homura pointed out, tossing a towel at him. Where he'd gotten it Goku didn't know and, as usual, didn't think he wanted to know. "Dry off so you won't become ill. Then we'll start."

Goku did as he was told; drying off the best he could in his dripping wet clothes. He shook his head wildly to get rid off any excess water. By that point his towel was almost as wet as his shirt and pants.

Homura noted this. "It's sunny out; you'll dry off soon enough," the man said calmly. "Come." Goku frowned but obliged, standing before his instructor. "I want you to practice more with your staff today."

"It's called _Nyoibou_," Goku said, a bit irked.

Homura wisely decided not to comment. "We're going to do the usual. You will attack; I will dodge and correct you." Goku groaned; that routine was quickly growing old, even though he knew it was doing well in honing his skills. "However..." He looked up quickly, brightening with hope at the word. Homura smirked, seeming amused by his reaction. "However," he repeated, "there is something else we are going to try."

Goku gave him a skeptical look. "Something else, huh?"

"It's just a minor change," Homura said, causing Goku to sigh. He'd suspected as much. "But it will seem rather major to you."

"If you say so..."

"Well, we'll see how well you remember what I've taught you first," Homura decided, bringing his hand out from the folds of his cape. His sword was in hand; he brought it up swiftly, smirking at his student.

Goku returned the look, holding his hand out. "_Nyoibou_!" The staff formed in his hand seconds later. Without waiting, Goku launched forward, getting a firm grip on his weapon at the last instant before swinging the staff down. Homura brought his blade up quickly, easily blocking him. Goku quickly changed tactics, landing on the ground. He crouched down, swinging the staff at Homura's ankles instead. This time the man jumped, but Goku was pleased to note it was a narrow escape.

He swung up this time, forcing Homura to phase out in mid-air. Or rather, a year or so ago it would have seemed so; by now Goku's sight was sharper and he knew Homura had to result to his commendable speed in order to dodge that. Considering it was the speed of a god, Goku had to say he wasn't doing badly at all.

Homura seemed to agree; he chuckled behind the boy, causing Goku to whirl around. "Not bad," the man said, smirking. "Much better than last time."

Goku grinned. "Dodging Zenon's bullets kinda helps."

"It would seem so," Homura agreed, suddenly slamming the blade of his sword into the ground. Goku blinked, watching as the grass around the fiery sword withered as though from intense heat. When he looked up again Homura was almost directly in front of him.

Homura grabbed the boy's wrists, clasping them tightly. Goku's eyes widened; he looked up questioningly, trying to ignore the fact that his heart had somehow found its way to his throat.

At least Homura wasn't about to give him the chance to speak. "This is going to make things considerably more difficult, but with practice you'll notice the difference it makes," he said. Goku yelped; his wrists suddenly felt cold. Homura let go of him, his chains clanking softly.

First Goku realized that without Homura holding his wrists his arms suddenly felt very heavy. He looked down at the cause, his eyes widening at the metallic shackles.

When he moved his arms, he heard the sound of chains again.

"This... is..." he whispered faintly, feeling suddenly numb.

"They're chains made from the same metal as my own," Homura explained, stepping back. Goku didn't look up at him, barely registering the words. "The shackles themselves are approximately the same weight as mine as well, but the chain links are lighter and weaker. Altogether mine weigh about one hundred-ten kilograms. Yours only weigh ninety-five."

_Only...?_ Goku shook his head, trying to rid himself of the sudden flashes of his prison in Gogyo Mountain. _No... he's not gonna take me back. This is necessary. He said so..._

"Are you ready, Son Goku?"

Still a bit dazed, Goku nodded and tightened his grip on the staff. He took a step back, raising it into a defensive stance. It was a bit harder to do because of the weight, and he had a bad feeling.

Homura's attack was sudden. Goku yelped, barely bringing the staff up in time to block. The force of the blow made his arms jolt; gritting his teeth, Goku stumbled back. Homura was attacking again, and this time he knew he wouldn't be able to block. He instead opted for dodging.

_Gotta__ get back on the offensive,_ he thought. That would be difficult since it was taking all his concentration to simply dodge Homura. Normally it wasn't this hard, and the man wasn't attacking any faster than usual, but the chains were succeeding in slowing Goku down. It wasn't a huge change, but it _was_ considerable enough to count.

With that much weight on his arms, Goku knew it would be stupid to try what he called the "hide-and-seek" tactic. He could only roll and dodge, making muffled sounds of irritation. It was like the chains had set him back to a level he'd been at a whole year ago! _At least I can see him this time, though..._

Worst of all, it was hard to dodge when he couldn't help but think about how he'd been all alone, chained to that cave for a few hundred years. Thinking about it was bad enough, but this physical reminder...

_I can't get out._

It was exactly like the cave, only worse in some ways. In his prison he had only been able to see the landscape ahead of him; out here he could see in all directions. He could run anywhere he wanted if he could only get the chance.

And the damned chains were restricting his movements.

Goku froze. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, and couldn't seem to see properly. The movement was sudden; he was completely locked into place.

And Homura appeared so taken aback by the abrupt change of events that it was all he could do to swing the sword at the last moment. It grazed by Goku; an inch or two closer and it would have done a lot worse. He shuddered. 

The fire sword fell to the ground. "What were you doing?" Homura demanded, his voice hot with anger. "You know better than to stop like that!" Goku could only shake his head numbly, and for a fleeting moment Homura's expression darkened. That moment was the most frightening second Goku could remember experiencing. He had the feeling that had he been anyone different, anyone else at all, he would have been the victim to one of Homura's rare explosions.

He'd never seen one of those explosions, much less have one directed at him, but he had the unnerving feeling that it wouldn't fall anything short of incredible. And that it wouldn't be the good kind of 'incredible,' either.

Homura quickly turned and walked away a few paces. Goku stared blankly as he rubbed his forehead, eyes closed as though in serious thought. He stayed there for a good few minutes. When he finally came back there was none of that anger on his face. He put his hands on the boy's shoulders, saying quietly, "Let's stop for now and go find the next town, shall we?" Goku nodded slowly, eyes flickering down as Homura's hands slid down his arms. The chains on Goku's wrists clicked, fell off, and seemed to disappear into thin air. The change was remarkable; Goku's arms suddenly felt incredibly light. He rubbed his wrists, feeling only intense gratitude that he couldn't express in words.

Seeming to understand, Homura knelt down to pick up his sword, then Goku's fallen staff. "Send it back," he said simply, handing the _nyoibou_ to him. The boy did as he was told, and Homura followed his example before starting back to camp.

However, even though the chains were off, Goku had the sinking feeling that nightmares of the cave would come to haunt him for days to come.

------

It was three nights after the shackles-and-chains training that Goku finally mustered up the courage to do it.

It had taken them a full night to get to town-- or rather, it had taken Goku hours to pack, nothing made any easier with Zenon's tormenting him. The trip there had been quick enough; Homura had "teleported" him to the edges of the woods, near the next town. (By now Goku knew that what Homura, Shien, and Zenon called "teleporting," he simply called, "unnatural speed." Because really, that was all that their so-called "teleporting" was.)

He'd felt numb the entire time, hardly rising to any of Zenon's insults, especially when they became more suspicious and testing than they did teasing. Homura had found lodgings at one of the hotels, this time splitting the rooms amongst the three of them. Zenon and Shien seemed fine with having their own rooms, but neither ignored the fact that Homura had quietly but firmly insisted that the boy stay with him for a couple days.

Goku would have been more grateful if his wrists still hadn't been hurting. He spent that night curled up on his bed, listless, tossing and turning nearly all night with no sleep. Surprisingly, by morning Homura didn't seem too well-rested either.

When asked what the plan was for this town, he'd simply said, "Relax." That was a rare moment that told them there were no leads for him in this town, and if there were rumors they weren't important enough to be recognized.

That gave Goku a couple days to get his wits back about him. It had also given him a couple days to do sit and do nothing but think-- something Zenon would scoff over and call a rare occurrence. Thankfully, he was fairly sure he'd come to a conclusion, which was basically, "There's only one way to find out, so just do it."

He waited until the third night, exhausted but determined to go through with his plan. Goku clung to his sheets, his eyes closed as he waited for a certain someone to come in. It seemed like ages before the door opened quietly, and ages more until that someone went to bed.

Goku bit his lip, counted to twenty, then quietly slipped out of bed. He walked over to Homura's bedside, standing there silently, watching, waiting. It took two agonizing minutes for Homura to realize that he wasn't going back to bed. The god opened his eyes, his right eye reflecting gold in the pale moonlight.

"May I help you?"

Goku nodded, saying quietly, "I wanna sleep with you."

Homura arched an eyebrow; Goku seemed to have succeeded in surprising him again, for he was silent for a long stretch of time. The man finally sat up, giving Goku an appraising look. "You're not a child anymore."

"I know."

"You don't need to go to a parent's bed for comfort now."

"I don't know if I ever had parents," Goku said honestly. "And I don't want you to be a parent. I want you to be Homura. I like that."

Homura grew quiet again, making him fidget in his place. It was fairly late, enough so it was quiet, but still early enough to dimly hear drunken voices downstairs in the tavern.

"You ask for a lot, Son Goku."

"That's because you don't give a lot," he said, his voice starting to become stubborn.

"Freedom isn't a lot?"

"What's freedom without relationships?"

There was another silence. Homura continued watching him, eyes narrowed as though scrutinizing the boy. Goku couldn't blame him; the double meaning to his words was obvious, especially since he was the one who had said it.

His fists and teeth were clenched as he struggled not to just tackle Homura right there. He _wanted_ to latch on to him, to press closer to Homura's warmth and not move for a good, long while. He _wanted_ to be held, especially after that near emotional breakdown he'd had a couple days earlier. He _wanted_ Homura to stop viewing him as a child. He _wanted_...

He wanted.

At last Homura sighed, turning away. Goku flinched; about to bite his tongue, but Homura's voice made him pause. It was amazingly light and amused, like he sounded when he was in an especially good mood. "Well, it's wasted money for that bed, but I suppose that's fine for one night."

It was all Goku could do not to launch himself at the man. He quickly scrambled onto the bed, but then hesitated, unsure of what was allowed. Homura solved it for him, resting his hand on Goku's head. He pressed lightly, bringing Goku closer. Warm lips touched his head briefly before Goku was pushed down. Homura lay down beside him, pulling the covers up.

Goku nuzzled against the man, sliding his arms around him. When Homura didn't resist, he tightened his hold and pulled himself closer, pressing his face into Homura's chest. "Thanks..."

"So long as you don't take it back later," Homura said gently, running his fingers though long brown strands. "That would be very rude."

"I won't," Goku muttered, closing his eyes. He felt limp suddenly, so tired. It was like a huge weight had been taken off his chest. Suddenly he could breathe easier; he found the bed more relaxing and comfortable. Homura was warm. It felt nice. "Won't... because I trust you... and I've been waitin' a long time."

Homura's hand seemed to go a bit lax. "This will only hurt you in the end."

"Nuh uh," Goku said stubbornly. Because Homura seemed ready to argue, he dug his fingers into the man's back. "Sleep now. Talk later."

"All right," Homura finally agreed.

Smiling, Goku loosened his hold a bit, shifting on his side. Within minutes he was fast sleep, feeling more calm and peaceful than he had since the first night Homura had freed him from his rocky prison.


	9. Chapter Nine

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: R

Pairings: hinted Gojyo/Hakkai

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, strong language, violence

Notes: Okay. As November is the month my beta will be busy with her Nanowrimo project, for the time being the story will be unbeta-ed. I apologize in advance for the mistakes; I do go through the chapters myself, but I know I still miss some things. In this case, constructive criticism is strongly encouraged.

As always, thanks for the reviews so far. Also, constructive criticism and feedback is still appreciated, and much love to those who constantly provide.

* * *

_Chapter Nine_

It was completely crazy and completely stupid; so thought Genjo Sanzo as he leaned against the tree. In attempt to ignore the rough bark trying to dig into his back he lit a cigarette, listening as his rapid heartbeat finally slowed. Air came easier to his lungs until finally he could breathe without making too much noise. That gave him better means to listen for any suspicious sounds.

There was a rustle on the other side of the tree. That wasn't alarming.

"Well, as Gojyo would say, nobody likes a persistent person."

Sanzo snorted around his cigarette, taking a deep drag. "Even when we're not near him you just have to remind me about him, don't you?"

A soft, forced chuckle rose from the other side of the tree. "Sorry." Though polite, Hakkai didn't sound entirely sincere. That only made Sanzo twitch as he blew smoke between tense lips.

Sanzo rolled his eyes upward, his voice heavy. "If you're worried he didn't follow us, it's highly unlikely he did otherwise." Gojyo was of no interest to their enemy now. He'd already struck Hakkai's emotions through Gojyo and he couldn't have much fun tormenting him much further. No, Sanzo was his target now. He was the last one left; was Hakkai's last chance to redeem himself in his own eyes. Their enemy knew this. He wanted to exploit this knowledge as much as possible.

Naturally, this made Chin Iisou the typical, run-of-the-mill, "Let's screw with their minds before killing them" villain. He hated typical people.

At least it made him predictable enough for Sanzo and Hakkai to know what to do without open discussion. The one thing that would ruin them now was revealing their strategy. The bastard could be hiding anywhere.

Hakkai's voice interrupted his quiet seething. "May I ask you something?"

Sanzo frowned, flicking the ashes from his cigarette. He wasn't in the mood for any sort of conversation, but Hakkai was the only person he knew who didn't grate on his nerves simply by breathing. He was the only one Sanzo made exceptions for. "If it's stupid, I'll kill you."

There was a hesitant pause. "Oh... I suppose I shouldn't ask, then," Hakkai said, sounding far too cheerful.

Sanzo turned his head toward the man, feeling a vein already becoming prominent in his forehead. "Are you _asking_ for a fight?" he growled. While Hakkai didn't _always_ annoy him, that didn't mean he never did. In some ways the man was more irksome than even Gojyo.

Another pause filled the air, this one less hesitant. It felt more like Hakkai was searching for the right words. Sanzo waited, only mildly impatient as he took another drag of his cigarette. If he hadn't been in such a tense mood he might have taken a good look at his surroundings, maybe even appreciated them. The forest wasn't too dense where they stood. There was a small clearing, the trees thin in comparison to the area they had left behind. Chin Iisou hadn't let up on the fog much, which only made it difficult for them to see if anyone was approaching from a distance.

A soft breeze stirred the leaves above his head. Sanzo closed his eyes. He had relaxed, though he hadn't let his guard down, so it didn't startle him too badly when Hakkai spoke again.

"Am I allowed to be here?"

He blinked, rolling his eyes as he flicked his cigarette. Loose ashes were shaken free from the move. "That," he said flatly, "was a stupid question. Don't ever ask me that again."

It _was_ a stupid question, to the point he couldn't really understand why Hakkai, of all people, had asked it. Even so, he knew his reply wouldn't ease the man's conscience any... and for reasons he'd rather not have to admit to himself, he added in lower tones, "You'd never betray me... would you?"

He could sense Hakkai's surprise. The man sighed, chuckling again. It was shorter and quieter than his last one, but far more genuine.

At least he was loosening up a bit. Being tense wouldn't get them anywhere. Though, given the circumstances, Sanzo admittedly wouldn't have been _too_ angry if Hakkai had been a little less composed than he was now. The man had been through so much at this point, more than Sanzo had been through if he understood correctly, and he was barely a year younger than him.

The incident with Gojyo had been rattling as well. Sanzo had been asleep but he'd woken up without explanation, a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Sudden shouts had alerted him and by the time he had arrived on the scene Gojyo was already on the ground, convulsing and seething with pain.

------

_Even if Gojyo hadn't been writhing and clenching his teeth, it would have been obvious something was wrong. Veins that should have been covered by a smooth layer of skin were now prominent in his arms. More bulges crept up his neck as he winced horribly, clutching at his chest as he snarled through his teeth._

_"Feels like... something... crawling in my veins," Gojyo grit out._

_Sanzo narrowed his eyes. A high-pitched laugh made him turn; from the corner of his eye he saw Hakkai do the same._

_"There's nothing you can do!" The demonically gleeful voice was coming a few feet away, from a doll half sprawled against the trunk of a tree. "The seed is next to his heart! He's going to die!"_

_Sanzo heard Gojyo cursing. Temporarily ignoring his companion's situation he said in a low voice, "You bastard. What do you want?"_

_It gave a shrill laugh, its blocky mouth moving jerkily to match the motion. "Fun, fun, fun! It's so much fun! Let's play more, Cho Gonou! Let's--!"_

_He'd had enough. The damn thing wasn't going to do anything but babble, and on top of that its voice was just plain annoying. Sanzo promptly shot it. The wooden head all but exploded from the force, fragments flying in all different directions._

_"Chin Iisou, I assume," Sanzo said quietly, glancing sideways at Hakkai. They had run across the strange man only a few days before. He had proven to know certain things about Hakkai, things he shouldn't have been able to guess just by looking... especially not his old name. Who else could the culprit be?_

_Hakkai looked a bit lost; he hadn't been able to see his opponent, though it was fairly likely Gojyo had told him about the doll before he'd been attacked. "I..." He floundered a moment, and it was then Gojyo suddenly let out a terrible scream._

_There was a ripping sound that made Sanzo cringe. When he turned the picture was far from pretty._

_Something akin to a thin green vine had erupted from one of Gojyo's veins. Blood was spurting out quickly, eager to escape the body it was trapped in. Almost immediately after the first another vine broke the skin, accompanied with another scream._

_"Gojyo!"__ Hakkai was moving quickly despite his lack of vision, stumbling over root curving out of the earth. Sanzo could only guess that he could sense a life inside Gojyo that didn't belong and could easily associate the screams with pain._

_He had to act fast. "Hold down his arms," Sanzo ordered, checking to make sure his gun was properly loaded before he turned around. Hakkai was obeying but was instantly alarmed at the soft _click_ of the gun._

_"Sanzo--"_

_"Shut up and hold him still," he said impatiently. Even that short exchange cost them because another vein tore free of the restraining body. Gojyo's shrieks were nearing an inhuman pitch. "Damn it, just do it!"_

_If the situation had been any less urgent he would have earned a dark reply from Hakkai. As it was the man simply tightened his grip on Gojyo's arms. It seemed to be a struggle because Gojyo wouldn't hold still._

_"You'll have to heal him as soon as you hear me shoot," Sanzo said, tightening his finger on the trigger. The resulting gunshot seemed louder than usual. The air had suddenly gone completely silent as Gojyo went momentarily still, sucking in breath for another scream, the vines pausing in their crawling for a split second._

_Gojyo's body jerked in response to the bullet, a strangled gasp emitting from his throat. He choked on his own blood. His arms went limp._

_Hakkai reacted immediately, quickly moving his hands over Gojyo's torso. Multiple occasions had risen where he'd had to heal someone or another and practice helped him locate the areas that needed the most attention._

_The bleeding stopped. Gojyo was silent, and even in a critical scene like that Sanzo couldn't help thinking that it was about time that happened._

_When he was finished Hakkai was completely silent. Sanzo looked up toward the trees, searching for something, anything suspicious. He could find nothing. Even so he found himself speaking aloud. "Isn't this what you wanted, you bastard?" he growled._

_If Chin Iisou heard, he didn't answer._

_A sudden thud startled him. Sanzo looked down in time to see Hakkai's body go completely lax. He'd collapsed, likely from the sheer amount of stress from Chin Iisou and having to heal Gojyo. Luckily for Gojyo he'd backed up once he had finished healing him, otherwise he would have fallen directly on the man. Sanzo doubted Gojyo would be any less annoying if he woke up and discovered a rib or two broken._

Gods, this is so stupid,_ he thought in disgust. Now it was up to him to take care of things until Gojyo woke up and Hakkai was mentally stable enough to do anything._

_The fog was dense and sticky. It made Sanzo uncomfortable._

_As if things couldn't get any worse. Knowing that Hakkai was safe enough until he awoke, as Chin Iisou wouldn't have much fun killing the man while he was unconscious, Sanzo left to find water._

_------_

It was far too silent, and Hakkai seemed to have noticed it as well. "A bit quiet, don't you think?" he said lightly.

"Indeed," Sanzo replied. He dropped what was left of his third cigarette, putting it out with his foot. It wasn't too likely a fire could start in such a damp area but the action was more out of habit than worry about friendly fire.

A faint rustle above was their only clue. Neither man needed to warn the other as they both leapt away from the tree. Just then sharp scalpels rained down from the sky.

"He was above," Hakkai said, tilting his head to better locate the direction.

Sanzo looked up, cursing his thoughtlessness. _Of course he was above, damn it!_

Chin Iisou smirked down at him; swinging his feet from the branch he was perched on-- the branch of the very same tree they had been back-to-back against. Sanzo had checked up there once but the demon seemed to have taken that position when he wasn't looking.

"Satisfied?" Chin Iisou sneered. "It _will_ be your last conversation, after all."

_If only Gojyo were around to amputate his other arm,_ thought Sanzo scathingly. Aloud, he simply said, "About as satisfied as we can be."

Chin Iisou chuckled, his eyes flickering to Hakkai briefly before coming back to Sanzo. "My, my. From the little chit-chat you two shared, it seems to know everything about Cho Gonou's past."

"And?"

Chin Iisou shrugged, leaping down. He landed smoothly, just beyond the scalpels he had thrown. "It doesn't bother you that this man committed a heinous crime? He ended thousands of lives just to rescue a doomed lover."

"And?" Sanzo repeated, annoyed. "What's wrong with that?"

Sneering, Chin Iisou finally turned his attention back to his prey. "My, Cho Gonou," he drawled. "What good friends you have." He smirked. "Good enough to lose, wouldn't you say?"

------

The whole day had just been one mess of _fucked up_.

Gojyo had to stop to rest. He sat down on the damp earth, grimacing in discomfort. He had no right to complain at the moment, so he didn't. He'd lost enough blood to make him dizzy each time he stood. That reminded him uncomfortably of his first and last encounter with Kanzeon Bosatsu.

_Crazy woman,_ he thought, rubbing the back of his neck crossly. As much as he tried, however, he couldn't focus on anything but what was really worrying him at the moment: Hakkai's mental state.

It really pissed him off to see that Chin Iisou guy needling Hakkai about his past. It was his _past_. Whatever had happened was done and over with and nothing was going to change. People who didn't realize that were just stupid. Dwelling over past mistakes wouldn't get you anywhere.

Cursing someone else for _making_ your life one huge mistake, now _that_ was something Gojyo could understand. More than understand; he could identify with it completely. He didn't hate his stepmother at all, or his brother. Truthfully, the only person he wanted to put the blame on was his father... even if that wasn't really the right thing to do.

Whatever problem this Chin Iisou guy had with Hakkai's past mistakes, he should have known better than to pick a fight with them. If something happened to Hakkai because of him Gojyo would have no regrets killing the bastard.

Honestly, he had no problems killing him right now. He simply felt that Hakkai was the one who really deserved to end Chin Iisou's life.

Grunting, Gojyo used the tree for support. He got back to his feet, wincing and rubbing his chest. A bothersome itching sensation still lingered where the seed had been. Adding to that annoyance, his veins still prickled uncomfortably, particularly where the vines had erupted from his skin.

Cutting off Chin Iisou's arm would have made him feel a bit better if he hadn't acted as though he hadn't felt it. There was something seriously wrong with that guy. He clearly wasn't human, but he didn't seem quite _demonic_ either. He wasn't even something in between. He was just... missing something. Gojyo grew frustrated when he couldn't put his finger on it.

"This sucks," he grumbled, wishing he had his lighter. He really could have gone for a cigarette right then, but Sanzo had taken it while he was unconscious. _Some monk..._

It was Hakkai's sudden scream that made him remember what he was doing. Heedless of his head swimming and cursing colorfully, Gojyo picked up his pace.

------

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Hakkai struggled to regain control of his hands but couldn't. He could hear Chin Iisou whispering in the back of his head, a creepy, compelling voice that made him do things he didn't want to do. He panicked.

_It wasn't supposed to happen like this!_ Hakkai grit his teeth, for once glad he had lost his sight. He was sure he would have seen anger in Sanzo's eyes, anger at his weakness, anger that he wasn't more in control.

Anger that they had both overestimated him.

He could feel Sanzo's pulse quickening beneath the crushing force of his fingers. Hakkai cried out, feeling his fingers at last twitch in response to his self-control, but then it was lost again.

"My, isn't this wonderful," he heard Chin Iisou say with malicious glee. "And knowing you, Cho Gonou, I'm sure you viewed him as your last hope to redeem yourself. How tragic." Amidst his words the sound of Sanzo choking reached Hakkai's ears.

_I can't let him die!_ He couldn't. Hakkai had made too many mistakes involving death; letting this happen would only condemn him further.

That and his pride refused to accept the likely fate of becoming Chin Iisou's puppet.

"Hakkai! What the hell are you doing?!"

He recognized the voice. He wanted to say something to Gojyo, to explain that the plan had gone awry, but he couldn't even control his own tongue anymore. To his horror he wasn't even clenching his teeth, his body lax and comfortable with what he was doing.

_Please don't let me do this!_ His wish was desperate, fighting to work its way out of his throat, but he was failing. _Don't let me do this!_

Abruptly the hold on him vanished.

Hakkai felt the restraints in his mind break, the mental effect making him gasp as though surfacing deep water. Immediately he released Sanzo, scrambling off his twitching body. The man was gasping, air forced raggedly into his lungs.

His neck felt wet and warm. Hakkai touched it, drawing his fingers back to his face. He saw nothing but darkness, but his nose was filled with the familiar coppery stench of blood. Oddly enough, it was more like dead blood...

"Bastard," he heard Gojyo snarl. "What the hell are you made of?"

Just in front of him Sanzo was coughing. It sounded slightly closer; the man's _chi_ felt steadier. Hakkai almost collapsed with the sheer relief of realizing he hadn't succeeded in killing him.

No, that _Chin Iisou_ hadn't succeeded.

Though his body protested Hakkai got to his feet. He turned toward Chin Iisou's voice, hoping his face felt as calm as he wanted it to. "Well, now that I understand that trick I can't let you do it again," he said, taking a step toward him. He cupped his hand, feeling skin-tingling warmth that sightlessly told his body he was gathering energy into his palm.

There was a long silence then the soft, dangerous sound of Chin Iisou chuckling. "Cho Gonou," he said. "I thought I explained to you before... those techniques won't work against me. Or need I remind you I am essentially immortal, a _shikigami_?"

Oh, he needed no reminding. Hakkai's lips curved into a faint smile. "There are other ways," he said simply. He struck then, his fingers hitting strong flesh. It resisted momentarily then sank beneath the force of his blow. His hand went completely through the man. Hakkai felt his fingers brush against something hard and blocky; he closed them around it.

"Ah, so it was _here_ that I struck that night," he said softly, clenching the mahjong piece in his hand.

Chin Iisou made a strangled gasp, not unlike the sound of Sanzo choking only minutes earlier.

"I hope I'm right in assuming this is your life source," he said quietly, finally tearing his hand back out. The mahjong piece slipped in his blood-slick fingers. He managed to keep a firm hold on it, clenching it tightly. He couldn't let Chin Iisou put it back in his body.

From the way he was gasping, it didn't sound like he was going to try to anytime soon.

"Pity," he heard the man choke out. "I was so sure... you'd let me have... a bit more fun..."

Hakkai simply shook his head, having nothing to say to that. He clenched the piece tighter. It startled him to hear a crack. It was less startling to hear Chin Iisou falling, though he only seemed to be on his knees as one of his bony hands clutched Hakkai's shirt.

"I... _loathe_ you... Cho Hakkai," the hateful demon spat.

"Good," Hakkai heard himself murmur. "I loathe you as well."

Then the bony grasp was gone, and with it went a piece of his haunting past. Hakkai shook his head, glad to be relieved of that burden.

He must have appeared shaky because Gojyo was at his side, slinging his arm around his torso to support him. "Hey," the man said in a quiet, low voice. "Let's get you cleaned up and rested, okay?" Sanzo's lack of reply to Gojyo's suggestion hinted that he agreed.

Hakkai smiled faintly. "Yes," he agreed, allowing Gojyo to lead him away. "Let's."


	10. Chapter Ten

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG

Pairings: none

Warnings: AU-ish, mild angst, violence, language

Notes: Normally I try not to incorporate a lot of Japanese into my fanfics, but I'll be making an exception here. Lirin will be calling Kougaiji _"Oniichan"_ as she does in the original version. "Big Brother" sounds too awkward in English, and in Japan it's customary to call an older sibling by their title rather than their name. The story _is_ set in China, but our _Saiyuki_ was originally in Japanese. However, Yaone will _not_ address Kougaiji as _"Kougaiji-sama,"_ since the translation sounds natural in English.

Special thanks to Sand3 for pointing out a detail error a few chapters back. I'll try to have that fixed over the weekend.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Ten_

It was the only place he could get away from people he didn't want to see. Most of the demons in Houtou Castle had strict orders not to enter the room. The only people who could get around that rule were people who ranked higher than him, people he gave permission, or people who were leading him in circles with a leash around his neck.

Otherwise the room was sacred. It was bare of any furniture, though once it had been a grand room lush with fine furnishings. It lacked decorations, though an outsider would have said otherwise. He didn't think of the stone statue as a decoration at all. It was too precious for that. His mother was encased in that stone, bound by various spells that were beyond his power to unravel.

Kougaiji's head was tilted back, slanted violet eyes focused on the sightless gaze of the statue. She was the sole reason he continued down his path. She was the reason he fought worthless battles, gave out orders he hated to give, wasted so many of his loyal subjects. All beneath him were more than honored to die for him, but in his eye there was no honor in fighting a losing battle. That was simply unfair.

But as long as Gyokumen Koushu kept twisting his arm behind his back he didn't have any other choice. As much as he respected and loved his companions and subjects, his mother was the most important person to him. Few people ranked as high as she did-- very, very few people.

In fact, the list was short enough for him to count on one hand.

Things had been fairly quiet lately. Normally Gyokumen Koushu -- the demon running the show, the one trying to revive Gyuumaoh, the arrogant woman who acted as though she were his father's wife and not his concubine -- would have him running on some useless errand or another, but at the moment things were unusually calm.

_No doubt she's got something up her sleeve,_ he thought, grimacing in distaste. She was the one who made him waste his forces, sending them to their death with no hope of returning alive. Compared to his mother the woman was nothing. The only thing she had going for her were her looks, but even that Kougaiji found distasteful. Something about women sneering put him off. Perhaps it had something to do with his old-fashioned thinking.

Not only in comparison to his mother, but compared to _many_ women she was distasteful, human, demon, or otherwise.

Kougaiji was impatient to receive orders to go after the Sanzo party again. The first and last time they had met he hadn't been impressed. If anything, he'd been slightly disappointed.

Few demons never heard about the rumor of Genjo Sanzo and his misfit troop. Kougaiji had heard a few stories from the few subjects that managed to report back and they had sounded like promising opponents. Face-to-face, however...

He wasn't impatient because he was excited about fighting them. He was impatient because he wanted to get this over with. So long as he had those scriptures, getting the rest of them shouldn't prove to be a problem. He expected that, while it shouldn't prove too difficult at this point, obtaining Sanzo's Maten scriptures would be the most difficult thing he would have to do.

He really just wanted this whole stupid ordeal over with.

It was nighttime and the entire castle felt restless. No real progress had been made and it was making many people testy. Kougaiji was really waiting for orders, waiting for reports, even just waiting for his half-sister to turn up missing again.

The last thing he'd expected was for the warning alarms to blare.

He started at the sudden wailing of sirens. Already he could hear chaos erupting in the hallways. There were feet trampling the floor, shouts coming from hallways near the outer walls of the tower. With a soft curse he started for the door, jumping back in surprise when he nearly ran straight into someone trying to enter the room.

There was a high-pitched squeak as a young woman stumbled back, a hand over her heart as she stared at him. "Lord Kougaiji!" She seemed equally shocked. "Forgive me..."

"Don't worry about it," he said shortly. She stepped aside to let him pass and he moved on quickly, though she was on his heels. And not without reason; she was one of the few people he trusted in this place. "What's going on?"

"An invasion," she replied immediately. "We're under a full-scale attack. The front gates were blown down. Our forces are going now to stop the commotion."

"Do we have any idea who's attacking us?" Kougaiji demanded. His voice was rough but Yaone didn't appear phased. She knew him well enough to understand he was being a bit coarse more out of stress than out of annoyance.

"No," she admitted. "Dokugakuji is looking into that now."

"Good."

Red lights throbbed on and off along the ceiling. The alarm was still wailing but the sounds were muffled by other commotion in the tower. He could hear Yaone's soft panting as she ran behind him. He opened his mouth to say something, intending to give her an order, but a sudden shout followed by a streak of orange made them both halt in their tracks.

"_Oniichan_"

It was all Kougaiji to do to stop before he and his sister collided. Even after years of spending time with the girl he could never get used to her antics and habits. Right now he was staring almost directly into her eyes, too taken aback at the moment to react as she wiggled on her toes.

"You're going to fight, aren't you?" she asked excitedly, unable to contain herself as she cracked her knuckles. "All right! Let's show them what we're made of! No one can stand up to Lirin!"

_She has no idea how right she is,_ he thought, momentarily forgetting their situation as he was torn between fondness and annoyance for his sister.

The flashing lights couldn't keep his mind off the crisis long. Shaking his head, Kougaiji put a hand on Lirin's head, trying to calm her enough so he could speak. "Look--"

"Kou!"

Barely able to supress a growl, Kougaiji looked over his shoulder. His annoyance disappeared almost instantly at the look on his companion's face. "What's happened, Dokugaku?" he demanded.

The demon who spoke was clearly older than he, built a bit wider, and had a comfortable sense about him when he wasn't looking as grim as he did now. "All our main forces have been wiped out."

He saw Yaone cover her mouth in dismay at the news. His reaction was stronger, his voice incredulous. "Impossible! Are you positive?"

"I wish I wasn't." Aside from Yaone, Dokugakuji was the only subordinate he trusted. Lirin was his sister, his precious sister, and when adding her to his most trustworthy companions Kougaiji had the three sole people outside of his mother he would trust with his life. Kougaiji rarely doubted a word any of them said.

Therefore, if Dokugakuji said their main troops were dead, they were.

Kougaiji grit his teeth, his fists clenching as Dokugakuji brought even worse news. "Not only that, the few that managed to get away have reported the invaders claimed to be gods. Their leader definitely had a _chakra_ on his forehead."

"_What_?" The fact their invaders were strong was bad enough, but for them to be gods? The gods were the ones who had created this mess in the first place! Kougaiji growled in frustration, resisting the urge to punch the wall. He had to keep his cool.

"Yaone."

"Yes, sir?"

He didn't turn back to the girls, his gaze fixed ahead. "I want you to take care of Lirin for me. Take her someplace safe." These were gods they were up against, and while he knew his sister would protest the idea he couldn't stand the thought of losing her. He especially hated the idea of losing her because of his own foolish decisions.

"Yes, sir," Yaone repeated, looking determined. He trusted her to do as he asked, no matter what resistance she came up against.

"But _Oniichan_!"

"Just do as I say," he snapped. Lirin flinched, looking stung. He watched her a moment longer, willing her to understand. Her hurt look slowly transformed into something like resigned disappointment.

He didn't want to leave her on that note but time was of the essence. He glanced back at Dokugakuji, only saying, "Let's go," before running off again. He heard Lirin cry out to him.

It was always a struggle to not look back.

Kougaiji quickly ran through all the information he had gathered in that short time. Gods hadn't touched Houtou Castle in well over five hundred years, not since the subjugation of his father and the sealing of him, his mother, and the rest of the tower's occupants. If they were back then there was only one reason he could think of: his father.

They wanted to stop the experiments before they even succeeded. Perhaps they were impatient with the Sanzo party's progress. That was understandable.

However, no matter how understandable it was, that didn't mean he could go along with it; not when the revival of his mother was at stake. Not when the possibility of being sealed away was also at stake-- and especially not when being sealed again would this time include more people he cared about.

"Doesn't this route ultimately lead us downstairs, Kou?" Dokugakuji asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Yes," he said grimly, coming to a stop at the elevators. He pressed the down button once, twice, then in rapid succession as he grew impatient. "They're gods. They have to be after my father. Nothing else makes sense; that's the only business the heavens have with us! Impatient bastards," he added in a frustrated afterthought.

The elevator didn't seem to be working. It wasn't jammed; the light indicating it was working wasn't lit. The emergency alarm probably included the shut-down of all machinery not hooked up to Gyuumaoh or a main escape route.

Disgusted, Kougaiji quickly gave up. "We'll have to take the stairs. This way!" He ran off toward the south end of the hallway. To the right was a door to several flights of stairs; they were the alternative in rare cases like this.

The door three stories down led to the platform around Gyuumaoh's comatose body. Kougaiji threw the door open and burst in, expecting to see someone, anyone, even the ever-abhorred Gyokumen Koushu, but there was absolutely no one in sight.

He walked the length of the platform, eyeing the room critically. The machinery still hummed as it ever so slowly worked its way to bringing Gyuumaoh back to life. The chair Gyokumen so often occupied was empty. It seemed like she had been in the middle of a manicure session; nail polish had been knocked over and pooled on the metallic platform. The stench was powerful and made Kougaiji wrinkle his nose. When he turned to Dokugakuji his companion also seemed to find the smell too strong for his tastes.

"So the she-fox isn't here," Dokugakuji said dryly.

Kougaiji shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe she ran and left my father behind," he muttered. If ever she was trying to make a good impression on him, she had just succeeded in scoring another mark against her.

Not that the bitch had ever tried making good impressions period.

Not only had she just up and left, she seemed to have taken the Seiten scripture with her. It was always in her possession; she trusted no one else with it, not even her most loyal subject Doctor Nii. That was understandable to Kougaiji-- he never had taken a liking to the doctor, not with his too-slick personality. His very presence made Kougaiji agitated; disgusted as though he'd been drenched in the filthiest sewer slime.

Then again, Gyokumen Koushu was just as slimy as Nii was. Her reasons for never letting the Seiten scripture out of her sight were probably more akin to the power she felt possessing them. Often when he was summoned to her she would have them in her hands, unfurled across her lap as though she could read and comprehend the complexities within the scrolls.

Kougaiji really hated this room. It always made him think unpleasant things.

Dokugakuji snapped to attention, his head turning to the front of the room. "Kou--!"

Kougaiji followed his gaze, narrowing his eyes as the door at the other end of the room creaked open. A figure stepped out-- a sole person. That raised some suspicion, since Dokugakuji had said there was more than one of them.

He could ask questions later. Kougaiji spoke clearly, stopping the figure in his tracks successfully. "I thought you'd come here."

The figure looked up. Upon first glance it was easy to tell it was a man, one that made a positive impression upon first glance. His demeanor, though relaxed, demanded immediate respect. His appearance was a strangely appealing mix of neatness and disorder, his black shirt tucked into his jeans, hair disheveled as though he had run his hands through it a few times. Kougaiji noted in particular the shackles on each of the man's wrists and large sword resting on his shoulder.

"My name is Kougaiji, Gyuumaoh and Rasetsunyo's son." Introduction somehow seemed necessary with this man; he didn't appear to recognize Kougaiji upon first glance.

"And I'm Kougaiji's swordsman and loyal subordinate, Dokugakuji." Had the situation been different Kougaiji might have smiled. Dokugakuji always realized when his cooperation was needed.

The figure below them didn't smile, regarding them seriously. "War Prince Homura."

"War Prince," Kougaiji repeated quietly. He didn't look at all like the war prince who had subjugated his father. The former one had been much smaller; child sized. The idea that this was him as an adult seemed too far-fetched. Despite the distance Kougaiji could tell there were few likenesses between the two. "So you _have_ come for my father. The heavens sure have grown impatient, haven't they?"

The war prince scoffed, closing his eyes. "Whether or not Gyuumaoh is revived has nothing to do with me. I have come for the Seiten scriptures."

_What? That can't be right!_ Kougaiji thought. He was suddenly at a loss. _What would the gods want with that?_

"It seems what I want isn't here," he heard Homura say. The god had barely spoken louder than a murmur, but in the vast room covered by metal from floor to ceiling sound carried easily. Kougaiji grew alarmed when Homura's eyes suddenly fixated on something just below the platform. "A secret passageway..."

Kougaiji cursed softly to himself. _What morons left that door open?!_

He began to take a step forward, but Dokugakuji was moving faster. He stopped immediately; the man needed no help from him.

Dokugakuji jumped down from the platform, grim-faced as he blocked the secret passageway's entrance. "Sorry," he said. "But I can't allow you to go any further."

For the first time Homura's expression flickered. He smirked, suddenly seeming full of confidence that hadn't been there before. Perhaps that was because it hadn't been needed. "Do you intend to fight me with that?" he asked, sounding amused as he referred to Dokugakuji's sword.

Dokugakuji didn't reply. Instead he charged forward, swinging with deadly force to bring the blade down on their intruder's head.

In a blur even Kougaiji couldn't follow, Homura dropped his sword and swung his fists up at the same time. The chains of his shackles were pulled taut, blocking Dokugakuji's blow. Kougaiji blinked, unsure of what he had just witnessed was even possible. _The power behind his blow didn't break the chains...?_

"You need practice," Homura said. His voice was light, still amused, as though he were a teacher patronizing a student. "That's not how you use a sword."

There was a clatter of chains, a flutter of cloth, and then Homura was striking upward. The edge of his sword cut a long, thin line up Dokugakuji's chest. The blow was enough to send him flying back, crashing into a tangle of machinery.

Kougaiji panicked. "Dokugaku!" He only moved a couple steps forward before pausing. At first glance it seemed that Dokugakuji's neck was broken, but closer inspection proved it was just the angle of a thick pipe beneath him supporting that illusion. Kougaiji breathed a sigh of relief. The blood from the long cut wasn't flowing freely, barely more than a trickle.

_Unconscious,_ his mind told him. _Unconscious and the cut is shallow. He'll be fine for now._ Right now his attention had to be given undividedly to the war prince-- and he looked up just in time. Homura had started for the door again.

"Don't think this is over yet," Kougaiji snapped, leaving his position. He landed a few yards to Homura's right, not blocking the door. Homura still turned.

"How rude of me," the god said calmly. "I should have known such a loyal subject would have a protective leader. Are you going to take revenge for him?"

"I'm going to stop you from going any further," Kougaiji said hotly. "Revenge has nothing to do with it." _And I can't let him get in the way, not if I want to save my mother!_

Homura suddenly seemed to regard him with new interest. "So be it."

This time it was the war prince who attacked first. Kougaiji barely anticipated the sword in time to dodge; he tackled the floor, tucking himself into a roll before finding his footing again. Just as he did another blow was delivered and he had to move again, this time jumping up. He caught himself on a railing, pulling himself over.

Homura paused in his attacks, looking up at him and tilting his head. The smirk was back on his lips. "Your speed is commendable," he praised.

Kougaiji scoffed, taking the time to brace himself in case of another abrupt attack. "I was told there were more of you," he said, ignoring the compliment.

"That is correct."

"I was under the impression gods worked alone."

Homura actually chuckled, the amusement on his face suddenly sharpening into something a lot closer to wickedness. What he said only heightened Kougaiji's suspicions-- and the way he said it aroused worry.

"What makes you so sure we're all gods?"

------

When she had first met Kougaiji's younger sister Yaone hadn't been sure if she could handle her. The girl was a handful, a bundle of energy no matter what you did to calm her down. Humoring her only brought exhaustion and trying to outlast her was never a good idea.

Despite Lirin's hyperactivity, Yaone found herself very attached to the girl. She was sweet when she wasn't causing trouble and thoughtful even when she was. Yaone was touched whenever Lirin would come to her with a problem, even when Lirin ran to her in attempt to hide from one. In the short time they had known each other -- only a few months at this point -- Yaone felt that Lirin was her little sister in so many ways.

That was why she felt guilty for what she was doing. Even though they were orders from her lord, even though ultimately it was for Lirin's own good, the disappointment clinging to the girl's usually cheerful aura was contagious.

Lirin was cooperating, which would have only been strange if anyone else had told her to stay behind. Lirin looked up to her brother, openly adoring him as much as any little sister could. Naturally, that included the way she purposefully antagonized him for sheer enjoyment.

Yaone felt awful. She had to say something; Lirin's somber attitude was too depressing. She put a hand on the girl's shoulder, leaning down to the girl's level when she obediently hesitated and looked up at her.

"I really am sorry, my Lady."

Lirin blinked, puzzled. "For what?"

Yaone opened her mouth to reply, to explain what she was thinking right then, but suddenly Lirin seemed distracted. Yaone followed her gaze, startled to find herself staring at an unfamiliar boy.

The boy stared back, equally amazed. He definitely wasn't a subject in the castle. While they weren't treated poorly, nor given the worst choice of clothing, his appearance was too clean, his clothes too noticeable. His hair was long, the mess at the top spiky and tousled. His weapon was a staff of sorts, whereas most of their subjects had swords or were trained in simple hand-to-hand combat.

Plus he wore a diadem snugly around his forehead, a device that limited only demonic powers. The only people with human appearances in Houtou Castle were two doctors working on the Gyuumaoh experiments, Nii and Huang.

Lirin abruptly broke the silence, her interest piqued by the stranger. "And just who're you?" she demanded in her infamous bratty tone.

"I should be asking you the same thing," the boy retorted, though he seemed equally interested in the girl. "You guys got the Seiten scripture?"

Lirin grinned, turning to fully face the boy. Yaone let go of her, unsure if she should stop what she sensed coming. "If you want it, you'll have to go through Lirin first!"

The boy grinned broadly, falling into a fighting stance. He gripped the staff in his hands tightly. "Sounds like a challenge to me."

"You're on!"

Yaone stepped back, rubbing her arm anxiously. _What should I do, Lord Kougaiji...?_

Well, she should have expected it. Every simple thing with Lirin always turned into a complicated mess in the end.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG

Pairings: hinted Kougaiji/Yaone

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language

Notes: Not much to say this time. Still lots of love for those who continue to review. And on an extremely random note, for people who remember what old children's movies were like -- and _liked_ them -- I was reminded of one I absolutely adored as a kid. It's called _Little Nemo_, and I'll warn you right off that it's not cutesy and funny like _Finding Nemo_. No, _Little Nemo_ was a lot more disturbing from the viewpoint of a child. Fantastic oldie, in my opinion. 

Anyway. Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated, as always.

* * *

_Chapter Eleven_

There should have been a lot of things on his mind right then. One should have been that he was lost and he really needed to find his way back to his companions. Another was that Zenon was most definitely going to kill him for running off like that. Not to mention, Shien was going to punish him by making their next training session that much more brutal. He even should have been worried about the guilt trip Homura was going to put him through.

Instead, Goku was simply excited at the prospect of a good fight. He had been disappointed at first; girls never struck him as good fighters before, and the girl challenging him -- Ririn? Lilin? -- was particularly small. She seemed too _young_ to be a good fighter.

Well, first impressions weren't always right. Her eagerness for a fight made up for her lack of size, and right now he was impressed with her speed.

"Little Lirin Kick!" she cried, leaping up into the air. She came down quickly, her foot ready to connect with his face. Goku yelped, quickly scrambling to the side and narrowly missing the blow.

_She's incredibly fast,_ he thought, amazed as he spent the first few minutes of the fight simply dodging. _Really fast! This might be fun after all!_

He quickly grew bored of defensive maneuvers. Goku finally went on the offensive when he landed on a cat-like crouch. He gave a loud yell, leaping at the girl rather than dodging, swinging his staff out in attempt to catch her. Surprise was naked on her face; she was hit in the stomach and went toppling back.

"Lady Lirin!" Goku glanced up; the cry had come from the older demon woman Lirin had been with. He briefly wondered if she was going to step in to help.

"Oww," Lirin moaned at his feet. Goku stepped back, blinking in confusion. Was she really that weak, after that impressive speed? "Oww, it hurts! Oh, I think you broke something!" she whined.

Goku looked up at the woman again. She was hesitating in mid-step, watching the girl clutch her stomach on the floor. The hesitation drew out too long, until it finally clicked in Goku's head.

"You're not really hurt," he accused. "You're faking it!"

Lirin looked up, her green eyes wide as she blinked in surprised. She then pouted, uncurling from the ball she was in and crossing her arms. "Aw, no fair! How could you tell?"

"I'm not _that_ stupid," he said, annoyed.

She sulked a few moments longer then promptly brightened. "Oh well! Let's do it! Kyaah!" she cried, lunging at him again. She swung her fist and Goku had to duck again, unable to move fast enough to block it. The blow grazed his nose, stinging it.

"Aw, geez," he muttered. She swung her leg out in a high kick, aiming for his face. He brought _Nyoibou_ up quickly, grunting as her shin impacted with it. He staggered back a little before swinging it out under her other leg. Miraculously, she managed to perform a backward summersault to miss it.

Lirin stood up, hands on her hips as she looked at him proudly. She stuck out her tongue. "Nyeh!"

Goku twitched.

"Nobody's ever escaped Lirin's wrath alive," she proclaimed, referring herself in the third person again. It was fairly annoying, especially since it didn't appear to be a consistent habit. "And neither will you! Hii_yah_"

As Goku was forced into another dance of kicks, punched, and random shouts, only one thought consistently crossed his mind.

_Damn it, Homura, you better be having more fun than I am..._

_------_

The longer the fight went on the more anxious she grew. Yaone knew perfectly well Lirin was capable of taking care of herself, that she had instigated the fight in the first place, but she _had_ been given orders. She should have had Lirin down in the basement by now. There was a room down there meant for cases like this; Kougaiji had sought it out just in case something serious arose and he wanted his sister out of harm's way.

Yaone didn't want to let her lord down, not after all he'd done for her. She had a debt to repay, one that would take a few hundred lifetimes to fulfill. One lifetime wouldn't even make a dent in it.

She kept a wary eye on the boy in particular. Somehow he didn't seem dangerous but she couldn't afford to take any chances. However, it was the lack of danger that made her hesitant to kill him right away.

The boy seemed too preoccupied to notice idle movements from her. She reached behind her back, pulling up the hem of her jacket. She had a few potions clipped to the belt beneath her coat, as well as some tucked into hidden pockets. Her bombs were normally clipped in inconspicuous little pouches to her belt, but she didn't want to risk using those and losing sight of Lirin.

She hesitated. _Then again..._ It would be riskier to use the sleeping powder and have Lirin fall asleep. It would make their escape a lot harder. She was a small girl but not exactly light; a lot of weight was gaining in her bust and muscles.

She abandoned the sleeping powder in favor for a couple small bombs. She waited until she had the opportune moment before acting.

Lirin and the boy finally came to a pause, both backing up for some breathing distance. That was her opening.

"My lady, stand back," she warned, flicking her wrist as she swung her arm widely. Lirin obeyed out of instinct; the boy merely looked surprised, though he did have the sense to jump back before the bombs went off. There was a muffled cry from the boy as smoke rose from the bombs' explosions.

"Aww, Yaone," Lirin whined.

"No time, my lady," Yaone said. It felt wrong to grab Lirin's arm and drag her off, but she was far more concerned about getting her to safety than she was risking Lord Kougaiji's anger. Honestly, she wasn't entirely sure if he _would_ be angry...

If the dust hadn't cleared just then she most likely would have been hit. Yaone stumbled back with a cry, knocking into Lirin at the same time. The girl yelped and fell though Yaone managed to keep her balance.

To her horror and dismay she found herself looking at a god. He was definitely human-looking; his clothes were fine and rather celestial in appearance. His hair was pulled back in the fashion most gods wore, yellow streamers of cloth falling from the knot in his hair down his back. Even with his eyes closed Yaone had the creepy feeling he was staring at her; scrutinizing; criticizing. He straightened up, drawing his hands back. Each one held a whip. Oddly enough, instead of leather, the long cords at the end seemed to be made out of light.

The dust completely cleared, revealing that the god wasn't alone. Just behind him was a taller man (likely a god, though she couldn't see any signs of a chakra) who reminded Yaone vaguely of their military forces. His clothes had a similar ring to it, though his gloves said something about a personal touch. Most remarkable about him was the black patch over his right eye.

_Oh no,_ she thought, doing her best not to cringe and to put on a brave front. A hundred "if onlys" passed through her mind in the few seconds it took her to realize who her new opponents were. If only she had taken Lady Lirin downstairs immediately, if only she hadn't let Lirin start the fight, if only she had stopped it earlier, if only...

"You goddamn brat!"

The explosion made her start. The second god had barely given her or Lirin a second glance. He stormed over to the boy, grabbing him by his long hair as he tried to run. "I'm gonna damn well kill you for running off like that!"

"Agh! Leggo, that hurts!" the boy protested, yelping as the god only gave his hair a firm yank. "Damn it, Zenon!"

Yaone immediately pounced on the name, tucking it aside for later information. Lord Kougaiji would want to know anything he could find out about the intruders later on. Right then she could only pray that he was unharmed-- or at the very least, alive.

"And don't think you've made your training sessions any easier by pulling that stunt," the first god said quietly. Yaone had the feeling that was how he normally spoke: gently, carefully pronouncing each word with a dangerous undertone that canceled the gentleness in his voice. He clearly wasn't someone to mess with. She noticed the boy Zenon had by the hair had paled at his subtle threat.

Unfortunately, Lirin didn't seem to notice that.

"So you're the baddies that broke into our home," she exclaimed. Yaone looked over her shoulder, startled and dismayed to find the girl up and back in her fighting stance. "Don't think you'll get away!"

"My lady," she whispered urgently, trying to make her understand the seriousness of their situation.

"Hey, we didn't get to finish our fight!" the boy complained, finally wrestling his hair free.

"Aw, you got boring," Lirin dismissed him, seeming more eager to challenge their new prey.

"What'd you say?! Stop laughing, Zenon!"

The situation was only getting worse and worse. Yaone had to think fast again. The first tactic would have worked if the gods hadn't appeared. She couldn't risk trying it again since it was likely the other two knew what had happened. They were only getting themselves into deeper trouble, and the god holding the whips wasn't regarding Lirin as little threat.

"I must warn you," he said, his face turned to the little princess. "We are from the heavenly army. There we regard all opponents alike. We do not exclude women or children, and especially not demons."

Lirin smirked with childish confidence. "Bring it on any way you want!"

Yaone slipped a hand discreetly behind her back, feigning more distress than she really felt. It would be far better to use the sleeping powder this time, whether it meant she would have to carry Lirin or not. It was a betterthan going head-to-head with these men.

She had just removed the vial from a hidden pocket when a smooth, amused voice sounded from just behind her. "My, what a clever woman you three are up against."

Yaone gasped involuntarily, the vial slipping from her fingers. It bounced on the floor but didn't break. The glass was a special kind, mixed with a few carefully chosen elements to give it a plastic-like quality. Accidents could happen, after all, and she was suddenly immensely grateful for this foresight even as she whirled to face the voice.

The man behind her was clearly an accomplice. The first thing giving him away was the chakra on his forehead. The second should have been easier to notice, but his hand was partially hidden beneath the cape he wore.

"You must be Prince Kougaiji's rumored apothecary," the man said, seeming amused by her expression.

_He has the Seiten scriptures,_ Yaone thought, worry stitching her eyebrows. _Please let Lord Kougaiji and Dokugakuji be all right..._

At the appearance of this man the gods with the whips thankfully diverted his attention from Lirin. "I see you succeeded, Homura." he said.

"Wow, that fast?" the boy with them asked, sounding both impressed and disappointed.

Homura simply nodded, stepping around Yaone to join his companions. Without looking back at the girls he said, "Let's go."

"What?" Lirin cried, sounding even more disappointed than the boy had. "But we were just getting started!"

From the expression on the boy's face he seemed to agree, but instead of complaining he merely sighed and turned to follow Homura. Zenon rolled his eyes but followed as well. The final god never even gave them a backward glance.

Yaone watched their retreating backs briefly, stunned at the strange turn of events. She had to shake her head to regain her bearings and focus on her mission. She touched Lirin in the shoulder, smiling weakly at the girl's pout. "Let's continue on, my lady."

"Okay," Lirin mumbled, shooting their adversaries a wistful glance. It like a child sulking after leaving a candy shop without getting a single treat.

The alarms had ceased blaring, which meant the crisis within the castle was over for the moment. Even so Yaone continued leading the girl down to the basement, knowing that was where Kougaiji would look for them eventually.

The theft of the Seiten scripture was going to bring the entire revival process to a screeching halt. The thought made Yaone cringe. Right now she could only wait, but it didn't stop her from worrying, wondering what would happen next.

------

Few things hurt worse than utter defeat. Realizing that the battle had been lost before it had even begun ripped the wound open wider, only agitated him further.

For once Kougaiji wasn't in his mother's sanctuary. He couldn't go there. Not after being beaten so easily. Not after such a humiliating defeat on top of that. He couldn't face the image of his mother's face after that, not without feeling anything but shame.

He was in his room, a place he rarely found himself in when he wasn't sleeping or dressing. It was the same place it had been before he had been sealed away, at least in appearances. Time had likely made many things in the room dusty and deteriorated; someone had taken meticulous care to clean everything, to replace what couldn't be repaired. Perhaps it was a form of mockery from Gyokumen Koushu. Perhaps she was telling him without words, "Do as I say and everything will be as it used to be, before this entire castle was subjugated."

Then again, she had said that aloud plenty of times before. Always promising his mother's return, always sneering down at him, always laughing inwardly -- even aloud at times -- as she tauntingly pulled the strings binding him. He was her living marionette, striving to rebel but only capable of obeying.

Summoning Engokuki had seemed like a sure thing. It was one of his stronger summons and definitely his most faithful. Kougaiji rarely had to use it, and then only when it was absolutely necessary. Engokuki had enough power to level towns, cities, perhaps even an entire continent.

But Homura, with his confidence and godly abilities, had cut through Engokuki's flames with a mere swing of his sword. He had power enough to split fire with sword pressure-- not the sword itself, but the mere _pressure_ of it when swung. Power like that was unbelievable. Kougaiji had forgotten what it was like to witness that much power, ever since seeing his father defeated by the War Prince Nataku over five centuries ago...

It really pissed him off.

Homura wouldn't even let him suffer the dignity of death (though in retrospection Kougaiji found himself grateful). At the moment it had angered him so much, being brushed aside right after that attack. Homura had given an eloquent farewell speech, but Kougaiji had hardly listened. He had been too busy clenching his fists, trembling from fury.

Attacking Homura had been both desperate and suicidal. There was no doubt the man could have cut him down easily. Instead he had blocked Kougaiji's leap, smirking as he punched him square in the gut. Kougaiji had fallen back, gasping for breath, his vision swarming with black spots. He was amazed he hadn't passed out.

He couldn't face anyone after such a defeat. After Homura and his party's retreat Kougaiji had given Dokugakuji orders to find Yaone and Lirin, to tell them it was all right to come out. Immediately after that he had gone straight to his room, turning his head away from any questioning eyes.

Even the inquiring stone-frozen eyes of his own mother. It made him sick to think he had failed her so horribly.

Thinking about it made anger swell again. He considered taking it out on the wall, but a sideways glance at the cracked stone and plaster told him it would do more harm than good. Besides, his knuckles already hurt from previous abuse only minutes earlier.

A hesitant knock sounded on his bedroom door. It was the sound he heard occasionally, when he was in his room and one of Gyokumen's lackeys came to tell him she wanted to see him. Right now he wasn't in the mood. "Go away," he snapped.

There was a pause, a soft, "Forgive me, my lord," and then the sound of someone walking away.

Kougaiji inwardly cursed himself, quickly getting up to open the door. The sound of it alerted the demon in the hallway; he narrowed his eyes a bit. "You ought to knock a bit harder," he said. "I thought I've told you that before."

Yaone made a quick, apologetic bow. "Forgive me, Lord Kougaiji," she repeated.

He shook his head, stepping back into his room. It was a silent invitation for her to come in; she recognized it and moved to obey. Kougaiji supposed he should have been worried about her being there, that it would only raise Gyokumen Koushu's suspicions about their relationship -- the last thing he needed from her right now -- but, like Dokugakuji and Lirin, Yaone merely had certain privileges most other subjects in the castle didn't.

However, that didn't mean he should let her stay long. That would definitely guarantee them both trouble.

In her hands was a small medical kit. "Dokugakuji asked me to check on you," she said sincerely. "He said that I mustn't take no for an answer."

Kougaiji scoffed; it was just like Dokugakuji. Still, the sentiment touched him. "All right," he said reluctantly. There wasn't anything seriously wrong with him, and Dokugakuji most likely knew that, and had likely told Yaone so. Therefore, he must have had another reason for sending her.

At first things were silent. She looked at his scraped and bruised knuckles, saying only that she was going to put ointment on them and leave the injuries unwrapped. They weren't serious enough for that, and she was going to leave him the ointment to use until his skin didn't feel so raw. It didn't have a pleasant odor, but almost the instant it touched his skin the stinging subsided to numbness. That was definitely preferable to a constant ache in his hand.

Kougaiji said nothing as she spoke, though he did nod his thanks when she set the ointment aside. She did a quick check-up right there, still silent through her meticulous work. Nothing else seemed to warrant her immediate attention. She warned him it would be best to rest as long as Gyokumen would allow him to, giving time for any internal soreness to ease. All he had as visible marks from his fight with Homura was a purplish bruise just beneath his ribcage.

He sat on his bed throughout the entire process, wondering what other reasons had driven her to see him. Even if Dokugakuji had asked she would have wondered why he didn't see Kougaiji himself.

When she was finished Yaone stepped back. She shut the small medical kit. It clicked as makeshift locks slipped into place. The nervousness radiating from her was starting to make _him_ antsy. Not to mention uncomfortable.

Just when he was going to give her his awkward thanks she spoke. "We don't think any less of you, my lord."

Kougaiji blinked. She had succeeded in confusing him. "What?"

She didn't raise her eyes, seeming far more interested in her shoes. "Dokugakuji and I, even Lady Lirin, we don't think any less of you because of your defeat."

Kougaiji tensed. He really didn't want to talk about it. "Yaone--"

"Please, my lord," she said, her voice trembling as she struggled to compose herself. Kougaiji reluctantly fell silent again; he suddenly wanted her out, was suddenly uncomfortable in her presence as he hadn't been before.

In fact it was very similar to his humiliation, unable to face his mother.

"I feel I can speak for them when I say... when I say that we follow you because we admire and respect you," she finally said. "I follow you because you saved my life and I will do anything to repay the debt... and because you are the only person I _can_ follow. I think much of you, my lord, and one defeat makes me think no less of you whatsoever."

Her cheeks had colored a little as she made her short speech. Kougaiji found himself unable to reply, too startled by her words to think of an immediate reply, vocal or physical. He didn't miss that halfway through her explanation she had suddenly changed from "we" to "I."

The silence was stretching on too long, he realized. Her eyes had lifted a bit, but she still couldn't seem to look any higher than the floor. He recognized the need to say something before she began to get scared.

"Thank you," he said. It felt too inadequate, but the tension drained from her. She finally looked him in the eye, her smile tinged with relief.

"Good night, Lord Kougaiji."

"Good night."

Once she was gone he sighed heavily, feeling drained without anger to keep him alert. Yaone's words had made some of the sting of utter defeat fade, though it wasn't gone completely. He still wanted-- no, _needed_ to make Homura pay for both defeating him and interrupting the progress of Gyuumaoh's resurrection. The halt of his father's revival was the halt of his mother's freedom.

With conflicting emotions warring in his mind, Kougaiji eventually fell into a restless sleep.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Homura/Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, yaoi

Notes: I apologize for the late update, but FFN was doing its upgrading thing. Still, the new chapter is here.

Thanks to everyone who have pointed out mistakes. As of this chapter, the past ones have been corrected.

Not much to say, so: constructive criticism and feedback is greatly appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Twelve_

It had to be the most bizarre dream he'd ever had. Goku lay awake that morning, unnaturally still and quiet. It was barely morning, slivers of sunlight creeping through the curtain-clad window. The first thing he'd noticed upon waking was that he felt pleasantly warm. He shifted slightly, enough so he could get a better look of the man sleeping beside him. Homura's breathing was soft, his closed eyes giving no indication that he was awake.

That was actually a good thing, because it gave Goku time to think about the dream.

_He was lying on the floor, bound by his wrists and ankles. Shackles pinned him to the ground, the floor smooth and cold. Each move he made sent shivers down his spine. His hands were flexing, wrestling uselessly against his restraints. He heard distant animalistic screaming._

_His eyes darted around wildly, too fast to catch anything but fleeting impressions of his surroundings, but in his mind he could picture the room in its entirety. The ceiling was high, sloped in an upside-down U shape. It gave the room a vast feeling, even though in reality it was rather small._

_The floor was tiled, done in various fine patterns. He was placed in the largest symbol of all, a large pentagram in the center of the room. The colors were simple, the outline of the stars and ancient symbols in black, the background done in pale turquoise tiles. Outside of the pentagram there were various colors, fading into each other like the blending of a rainbow: white into yellow, orange into red, violet into blue. Around the circle were many tall candles, all meticulously placed, all burning as the only light in the room._

_He was splayed out in the center, writhing in pain and fury. The screams he heard were actually his own. He fought viciously against the shackles pinching his wrists, shrieked as loudly as he could. He couldn't even recognize his own voice; it was so inhuman, so angry, so... bloodthirsty. When he clenched his fists sharp nails tore into his palms, only making him even more furious._

_Then power exploded before him._

_His screams were instantly silenced as he watched, stunned. A mass of sheer energy was twisting and coiling above his body. Even though he could feel his own energy being drawn from his belly and into the living cloud above him he couldn't scream. He just stared, amazed, awed, fascinated, showing no sign of fear._

_In fact, the feelings melted into a strange sense of happiness as the energy sank into an invisible point in the air, forming a large round ball. He was even trembling, longing to reach out and touch it, hold it. He had an unexplainable feeling that if he could just touch it he would be happy for the rest of his life._

_Then it abruptly disappeared. He felt a ripping sensation, as though someone were tearing at his insides. At the same time his anger returned. Who the hell dared to take away his happiness? Who _dared

_He shrieked, finding the strength to tear the shackles from the floor. The metal went flying into the ceiling and he was moving, snarling, trying to locate the person who dared to make him unhappy._

All Goku could remember after that was a flash of gold. He could sense more than see the surprised expression of his captor. And, oddly enough, he had also felt one of the worst emotions he could think of: betrayal.

While Goku was very well aware it was just a dream and it probably meant nothing, it still unsettled him. It was also upsetting that even waking up nuzzled safely against his savior couldn't banish the bitter aftertaste of the dream.

He glanced at Homura again, blinking as he realized the man was awake. Homura was watching him oddly, one eyebrow raised. It made Goku nervous.

"Um..."

As though sensing his discomfort, Homura said mildly, "I was just surprised to wake up to a pouting face."

Goku scowled, the nervousness dissipating almost instantly. "I wasn't pouting!"

"You were." Homura smirked. "What's wrong? Bad dream?"

"I wasn't pouting," Goku insisted, aware too late that he was whining. He flushed a bit, wriggling away from Homura in embarrassment. Homura didn't stop him. Instead he sat up, though he didn't get out of bed. Goku looked down at the blankets a moment before he added in more normal tones, "I... actually did have a dream. Not really a nightmare. It was just... weird."

After a few moments of silence Homura seemed to realize Goku needed prompting. "Care to tell me?"

Goku frowned a bit, looking up. Homura was watching patiently, his mismatched eyes unwavering. Unexplainably, Goku found himself staring in particular at Homura's right eye. The eye that marked him as a heretic.

His golden eye.

"It..." He shook his head, trying to clear his cobwebbed thoughts. "It was... weird," he repeated lamely. "I mean... there was this room, right? It was a weird room, really high ceiling and lotsa patterns on the floor. And I was chained down on this..." He made a circular motion with his hands. "This thing... it had stars and a ton of weird letters I've never seen before. And I was screaming. I was just so _angry_ for some reason. And there were lots of candles..." He trailed off, having a sudden bad feeling. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell Homura about the energy swarming above him.

After a long silence Homura finally spoke. "Sounds like a ritual of sorts."

Goku blinked. "Huh?"

"A sacrifice ritual, more like," Homura amended. "You were tied down, scared--"

"I was _angry_, not scared," Goku said hotly.

Homura smirked. "Of course. My apologies. In any case, it sounded like you were inside of a pentagram. And it sounded very much like you were about to be sacrificed to one thing or another. Perhaps a god, if those fanatical humans still exist," he mused.

Goku wasn't sure what to say to the man's interpretation. The explanation was sound enough but it didn't seem to ring quite true. Goku looked at the man doubtfully, biting his lower lip. _It just doesn't sound quite right... and it feels like he's hiding something._ "Homura..."

"Yes?"

He blinked, suddenly realizing that the idea was stupid. How could Homura be hiding anything? Goku's dream was just that: a dream. There was no way Homura could have had any idea what it was really supposed to mean.

Goku shook his head. "Never mind."

Shrugging, Homura took that as a sign their discussion was over. He slipped out of bed. Goku watched as the man stretched the last of sleep out of his muscles before he began to find fresh clothes to wear. The boy stared at the muscle lines on Homura's back, admiring the tone and vaguely wondering if his body would be in similar shape if Homura continued to train him for a few more years.

Watching Homura get dressed reminded Goku of something else that had been bothering him for a couple days.

"Hey, Homura..." Goku waited until the man made an acknowledging noise before he continued. "Sharing a bed with you is nice and all, but when're we gonna have sex?"

Homura stopped. He turned to look at the boy, his expression blank except for mild perplexity. He finished pulling down his shirt before grabbing his cape, dusting it off with exaggerated care. At last he spoke. "What brought that on?"

It was Goku's turn to stare. "Well... the fact that we've been sleeping in the same bed for almost a _week_ and we haven't done anything?"

" 'Done anything' is a very broad and loose term," Homura said delicately. The cape fluttered as he draped it over his shoulders. The movement made the stitched flames briefly come to life.

"You know what I mean by it," Goku said crossly. "I just asked when we were gonna have sex."

Homura hesitated again. This time Goku began to grow anxious; normally when Homura didn't answer right away it meant the question needed serious consideration. Serious consideration meant he wasn't positive, which in turn meant he was probably questioning his own feelings. _That_ was what alarmed Goku.

"You're not content with the way things are?" It had started out as a statement but slipped into a mildly puzzled question with the last few syllables. The look Homura gave him was of genuine confusion. Goku bristled.

"What are you saying?" the boy demanded, kicking the blankets aside so he could stand up. He flinched at the cold floor beneath his feet and immediately jumped back on the bed again, tucking his feet beneath him to warm them quickly. He didn't let that deter him. "I thought I told you I didn't want a parent!"

"You did, and I understand that perfectly," Homura said. "However, you did _not_ make it clear as to what you _did_ want."

Feeling his temper rising, Goku narrowed his eyes at the man. He slammed a balled fist into his palm. "You knew perfectly well what I wanted, damn it!"

"You said a relationship," Homura reminded him quietly.

"Yes, a relationship! That includes sex!" Homura shook his head, and the boy felt his blood heating. "You _knew_ what I meant then, and you know now," Goku accused. He got back up, cringing as his feet touched the floor again. This time he stayed standing. "Why're you acting like you don't? You're keeping secrets!"

Though Homura had a remarkable amount of patience, it seemed to be wearing a little the more Goku yelled. "Adults have their reasons for secrets."

"I'm not a child," Goku snarled.

"I have never asked or demanded you tell me any of your secrets," Homura said impatiently. "And I am not calling you a child. You are assuming things."

Frustration made it difficult for Goku to speak right away. He struggled to think, to clear his head and try to make sense out of their argument, but it was growing increasingly impossible. "Yeah, and I'm _assuming_ that you're just too scared to start a real relationship!"

That seemed to hit a nerve. The level of Homura's voice didn't change, but now there was an almost deadly note to his tone. "It's for your own good that our relationship doesn't go beyond the platonic level."

"I didn't ask for _friendship_!" His voice rose considerably on the last word. "You know I didn't! And it's not fair that you led me on this far, and then when I ask you to get serious you pretend to misunderstand me!"

Homura grew quiet again. At last he said, "Perhaps we should continue this conversation later." Without giving Goku the chance to protest he turned on his heel and left the room. Goku flinched as the door practically slammed.

Rather than feel guilty for upsetting Homura, as he might have under normal circumstances, Goku grew even more annoyed. A string of curses erupted from his mouth, all learned from Zenon though not all were quite as colorful as his. He stomped around childishly as he looked for his clothes, yanking his shirt over his head and nearly castrating himself with his zipper in his anger.

Outside the room was a hallway. At the other end there was nothing but a wall and a window. Halfway down were two doors, one on each side. The one to Goku's right led downstairs and the one to his left led up. He didn't see Homura.

Goku chose the left door.

They had taken over Konran Tower nearly a week before. Or rather, Homura had. Goku didn't know the finer details since he'd had to wait outside with Zenon and Shien, but he did know that Homura had gone inside, struck a deal with the demons, and had granted them immortality. Many of them still wandered the place, though most were living closer to the bottom floor now. Goku had seen them occasionally, just long enough to note the chakras and blank stare in their eyes. When he asked, Homura had merely said the demons were no longer themselves.

And, cryptically enough, he had said something along the lines of, "They have made their fate a sad one." Goku wasn't entirely sure what that meant, and when he prodded he couldn't get an answer. That was one of the few things about Homura that _really_ annoyed him; the man didn't like explaining himself. This usually left Goku to interpret most things on his own-- and what had happened just minutes before was a good example of how some of his "interpretations" ended up.

Goku wasn't entirely sure where the others tended to hang out, though he did have a vague idea. Zenon was closer to the ground, though not so close he would come into contact with the demon-gods every day. Even if they were gods he still seemed to despise them. Shien was much farther toward the top of the tower. Goku had never been up farther than Homura's room level (around the middle, but closer to the roof than the bottom) and he'd heard that Shien preferred being closer to the heavens because of the view.

If the view was really so great, he intended to see it. It wasn't like he had anything better to do anyway-- and he sure as hell didn't want to stay in Homura's room. Not after that fight.

Hopefully he wouldn't encounter Homura on the way.

Wandering the tower a bit, Goku had discovered that the basic layout was very simple. The lower floors had narrow halls but wide rooms. Presumably, those rooms used to be good for training. Many of the demon-gods lolled about there. There was a large basement beneath the structure-- or rather, a prison, and there they kept those who opposed Homura and his ideals. Homura had once said he would release them once the new world was created.

Further up the hallways grew wider but the rooms were numerous and smaller. Those had been where the demon-gods used to keep their things and sleep. Now they were empty, which mildly disturbed Goku. He tried to avoid most of them.

He had yet to explore the higher regions, and at first Goku decided they weren't much different from the levels below. At last he emerged onto a floor he definitely hadn't seen before. The hallway was gone, and in its place was a large, circular room. Goku glanced around, startled by the new discovery. The colors were mostly shades of blue and green, tiles splayed out on the floor in some sort of intricate pattern. Goku had the feeling it should mean something to him, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"What are you doing?"

The voice was quiet but not soft, subtly demanding. Goku started and turned, blinking in surprise. "Um..."

Shien took a step forward. His eyes were closed but still seemed as though they were pinning Goku with a hard stare. "You are not supposed to be here," he said quietly. "You're not ready to see this room."

Puzzled, Goku finally found words again. "I just wanted to go to the top," he said defensively. "You're always up there, and Homura's always saying how you think the view's so great..."

Shien tilted his head. Narrow green eyes opened, though barely, and Goku got sudden cold chills. He rubbed his bare arms to soften the goosebumps.

"Well then, perhaps we should go together." The invitation succeeded in surprising Goku. "However, there are faster ways to get there. This way." With that Shien turned and started back out the door Goku had come through. Scratching the back of his head, Goku briefly wondered if following him really would be such a good idea. Curiosity won out over apprehension, and he went.

They went down two floors before Shien took an abrupt turn down the corridor. At the seemingly dead end he put his hand on the wall, pushing slightly. When he drew his hand away Goku saw a faint red circle on the wall. It seemed like a light, though the edges were fuzzy... almost as though it were a button.

When the wall split open Goku gawked. "We have an _elevator_?"

A faint smile crossed Shien's normally solemn expression. "Somehow I am not surprised you didn't realize this."

Scowling, Goku followed him inside. He honestly hadn't realized they'd had elevators... though thinking about it, it _did_ make sense. What normal person -- human, demon, or otherwise -- would walk that many flights of stairs just to get a look at decent scenery?

"The buttons are at the end of every hallway," Shien said quietly. "To your left in each one."

Goku leaned against one of the walls, glancing sideways at the god. "Why're you telling me?"

"You ought to know the structure of our base inside and out," was the simple answer.

"If I'm supposed to know, then what about the room we just left? "

Shien said nothing.

When the doors slid open again Goku knew, without having to ask, that they were at the top. It felt a little harder to breathe since the air was thinner, but it wasn't too horrible. Grinning, he hurried out of the elevator and to the nearest railing. There were no walls here. "Wow! We're above the clouds, aren't we? Cool!"

Shien leaned against the pillar nearest to the boy, his face turned outward. There wasn't much up here but clouds and slivers of pale blue sky, but it was certainly quite the sight for someone who had never seen it before. Shien didn't seem to find it remarkable, but he must have liked _something_ about it since he came here so often.

"I ran into Homura downstairs."

The mention of the name made Goku stiffen. He tried not to let his annoyance show on his face. "Yeah. So?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shien shrug. "He seemed... mildly upset."

_Mildly?_ Goku turned to look at the man, but Shien still kept his face turned away. "So?" he repeated.

Shien sighed. He sat down on the broad top rail, adjusting himself until he seemed more comfortable. "Perhaps I should get to the point," he said. "I do not, and never quite have, believed that you belong here with us."

Stung, Goku straightened up before glaring. "Yeah, well, you've made that obvious by trying to _kill_ me during practice."

"I've never drawn blood, nor broken anything," Shien pointed out. That only irritated Goku further, because Homura had said the same thing before. "I am merely saying that you don't belong here because you do not understand our leader."

Goku narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you do not understand Homura's purpose," Shien responded; his voice was infuriatingly calm. "You know he wants to create a new world, but you do _not_ know _why_. You know nothing of his past, and yet you insist on starting a relationship with him."

Goku opened his mouth to retort, then shut it quickly when what Shien said sank in. "How did you know...?"

"It was obvious."

That could have meant Shien knew Homura well enough to simply tell, that he found Goku easy to read, or that Goku had been careless and let on more than he'd realized. Then again, Homura had never made any move to _conceal_ the relationship... but Goku had never thought it was _obvious_.

Besides, Homura didn't seem to think their relationship was what Goku thought it was-- further from that of mere friends and companions, closer to that of lovers.

Clenching his fists, Goku mustered up his quickly fading anger to ask Shien heatedly, "So you're telling me to stay away from him?"

"I'm telling you it is unwise to push him."

"Yeah, well..." Goku floundered a moment, then took a deep breath and snapped, "Well, if he really didn't want me, he would have rejected me!" Without waiting to see Shien's reaction he turned and ran, slamming his hand into the wall. The elevator doors opened immediately. The last thing Goku saw before the doors slid shut was Shien shaking his head. Though he had only caught a glimpse of it, the movement struck Goku as melancholy somehow. He tried to ignore the feeling, leaning against the wall and sliding down to the floor. He hugged his knees tightly.

_Great... now what should I do?_

_------_

It was with great reluctance Goku pushed the door open.

He didn't know why he was back here. He had spent most of the afternoon sulking, thinking over what Shien had said. What bothered him most was that the man was right-- he _didn't_ understand Homura, and he _was_ asking a lot for someone in his position.

It startled him to see Homura already there. He was lying on the bed, one knee bent toward the ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head. Goku quietly shut the door behind him, taking in the position and Homura's peaceful expression; it was as though he were asleep. His eyes were closed, strands of black falling in a weak attempt to veil his eyelids.

_He _is_ attractive,_ Goku admitted to himself. It wasn't hard to see why so many women were flustered when he randomly struck conversation with them. Goku knew his real intentions for speaking to them, even if they didn't.

_At least I know that much..._

He had the sudden irresistible urge to brush the stray strands away from Homura's face. Hell, he just wanted to touch his hair. It looked soft, and for some reason it conjured an image he could barely perceive in the edges of his mind: long golden hair, bright and shimmering as the sun... a complete contrast to Homura's, oddly enough.

Before he could continue that puzzling train of thought Goku blinked, realizing that Homura was now watching him. At first neither of them said anything, and it was Homura who broke the silence. He didn't smirk, didn't make a smart-ass remark. Instead, he simply said, "You're late."

Goku shrugged, lowering his eyes. He heard the sheets rustle as Homura sat up. "I... guess... I should--"

"Hush." Frowning, Goku looked up; opening his mouth to protest, but Homura shook his head. "Let me speak."

Reluctant, Goku shut his mouth and sat down beside him.

"First of all, I ought to apologize." Goku couldn't help it; his jaw dropped. "You had every right to accuse me of leading you on. I was doing that, and I apologize."

"But I--"

"However," the man continued. "If you really want to so badly, I am willing to let our relationship skip a few steps."

Goku gave him a puzzled look. "Skip a few..." It dawned on him, and he grinned widely. "Don'tcha mean to the _next_ step?" he asked eagerly.

"No," Homura said, smirking and looking far more like his old self. He reached out calmly, tugging on the zipper to Goku's jeans. "I mean skip a few. _Quite_ a few." He looked up at Goku, meeting his gaze directly before he reached up, brushing his knuckles across the boy's face. "I want you to know first," he murmured, "that I did not intend to lead you on before."

Grinning impishly, Goku grabbed Homura's arm just below the shackle. "I believe you," he said simply. "And... sorry for pushing you the way I did," he added, embarrassed.

"I believe this has been settled, then?" There was an unusually wicked glimmer on the man's eyes. Goku found he liked it.

"Mmhm. So..."

Complying with his silent request, Homura leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Goku allowed his eyes to fall shut, enjoying the sensation as long as he was allowed. His eyes snapped open when Homura pulled on his zipper again.

"Don't run from me again," he muttered, making a small noise in the back of his throat as Homura dropped his kiss down to the boy's jaw.

"As you wish." Goku snorted softly at Homura's wry tone, the sound quickly falling into a hiss as the god's hand slipped into his pants. He easily fell back to the bed, allowing Homura to gain the upper hand. That would be all right... for the first time, anyway.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: R

Pairings: mentioned Gojyo/Hakkai

Warnings: AU-ish, strong language, brief nudity

Notes: Okay. Two quick announcements pertaining to this fic.

1) My beta-reader is very busy this month, so the fic will still lack beta-ing for another couple weeks.

2) My family and I are moving to a new house tomorrow. Due to this, I'm updating early. Also due to this, the next update won't come until the 12th or 13th, since my mother waited until the last minute to call the cable company. Sigh. Unfortunately, my mother is incompetant and inconvenient like that. In any case, the next chapter _will_ be late-- unless I can sneak on at school next Friday and update from there. We'll see what happens.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Thirteen_

It had been one of their usual days of long driving, hot deserts, and the occasional ambush. Sanzo knew he wasn't the only one who was hot, sticky, tired, and in need of a relaxing bath and good night's sleep. Gojyo was also somewhat cranky at the moment, a good deal of it having to do with his lighter running out of gas, and Hakkai just seemed exhausted.

Sanzo had already booked two rooms; that was the cheapest way for him to get some privacy, since his other two companions were comfortable enough in each other's presence to not mind the company. In fact, half the time he suspected that they even _wanted_ to share a room. There were nights he would be plagued with insomnia and get up to go on a walk, and passing by their inn room he would hear soft conversation and the occasional chuckle through the walls.

Sometimes Sanzo wasn't sure if he hated them or not.

Tonight that wasn't bothering him. It was already early in the evening, and he was in dire need of a bath and something to eat. He had just finished making room reservations and was now tossing Gojyo his and Hakkai's key. Without a word he turned and headed for the stairs. Gojyo and Hakkai followed his lead, neither seeming to be in a conversational mood. That was good. Sanzo was too tired and moody for small talk.

Once in his room Sanzo made sure the door was locked before he removed his scriptures and set them in the nightstand drawer. He went to the private bathroom. Turning the shower on, he made sure the water was only barely warm before he stripped free of the rest of his clothes and stepped in. The water felt cold upon contact, jolting him wide awake.

_Good,_ was Sanzo's only blissful thought. He closed his eyes against the spray, letting the water pound against his skin and wash away the first layer of dirt and grime. After a few moments he grabbed the soap, working up lather in his hands before he washed his face first. That felt refreshing enough to lighten his mood.

As Sanzo rubbed soap on his arms he found his thoughts flitting briefly over recent events. Oddly enough, the assassination attempts had suddenly started coming fewer and further between. Rather than relieve him, that only made him even more wary and suspicious. Was something going wrong with the Gyuumaoh experiments, or was something going _right_? That would be just his luck, if they suddenly found a way to revive the demon king without the Maten scriptures. Not only would he not realize it right away, but it would make the mission that much more difficult by the time they reached Tenjiku, where the experiments were supposedly taking place.

Sanzo shook his head, sending little sprays of water around the tiny stall. He could worry about that later; right now he just wanted a relaxing shower. The water was starting to feel too cold, though. He reached over, turning the temperature up a few degrees. The air grew slightly thicker with steam.

One thing Sanzo hated about inns was their shampoo. For one they came in tiny bottles that hardly felt adequate for two uses, especially with his thick hair. (He usually showered once before bed and once before leaving, since sometimes they would go days between towns.) Another was that their shampoo, while labeled something decent such as "lavender," usually smelled like plastic. Sanzo wasn't one to gripe, but it tended to ruin the appetite if one ate dinner shortly after a shower. It was hard to enjoy the smell of fried noodles when you had a strong scent of liquid plastic under your nose.

He finished washing his hair quickly, taking more time than he really needed to wash his body again. It was more to use the soap to cover up the plastic smell than anything else, and it seemed to be doing an adequate job. Once Sanzo was satisfied he looked and felt clean, he let the spray rinse the last of the suds off his chest before he leaned over to turn off the water. Pushing the flimsy shower curtain aside, Sanzo was almost immediately hit with a blast of cold air. He shivered, immediately seeking a towel to quickly dry himself off with.

It was still too warm for him to pull the upper half of his robes on, so Sanzo decided to leave that hanging at his waist. He tucked the scriptures into one of the inside pockets; he didn't dare leave it alone for too long. Things had been quiet lately, yes, but one could never be too careful. His hair was still damp as he grabbed his bedroom key and stepped out. He doubted both Hakkai and Gojyo had finished cleaning up-- and they would definitely want to, after being in the desert for the past five days straight.

Sanzo decided to grab some more cigarettes before dinner. It would be one less thing on their list of things to get later, plus it would pass some time before his companions were ready to meet him downstairs.

Not all the shops had closed for the night, he observed as he stepped outside. Some night lamps had been lit on street corners, but plenty of shop windows were still bright. Sanzo walked the near empty streets, seeing the people around him but not really registering their presence. He never bumped into anyone, but if he thought back on it later he wouldn't be able to remember if they had had brown or blonde hair, or what they were wearing, or even if the few people his eyes managed to linger on for more than a couple seconds were male or female.

He found the tobacco shop within minutes. It didn't take long to purchase enough packs to last until they reached the next town (hopefully, as the days it took to get to each town were rather sporadic) and all too soon he was on his way back to the inn.

"Hey!"

The sudden shout startled Sanzo enough to bring him back to reality, but not enough for him to look to see where it was coming from. The voice was young and nasal, probably an annoying teenager yelling for his friends...

"Hey," the voice called out again. It sounded closer this time. "I said, _hey_." The last word was punctuated with a sudden firm tug on Sanzo's sleeve. The priest whirled to face the speaker, and was startled to first see Hakuryuu's beady red eyes gleaming up at him.

_What the hell?_ Before he could speak Hakuryuu gave a small squeak, recognizing his driver. The white dragon fluttered from the other speaker's hold and on to Sanzo's shoulder. He took to the man all right since Sanzo was his driver, but for some reason Hakuryuu was more drawn to Sanzo's blind companion than he was his literal caretaker.

"Oh, good, he _is_ yours." Sanzo turned his attention back to the voice, not surprised to find himself staring at a boy. What _did_ surprise him were the brilliant golden eyes looking up at him, as well as the bronze demon limiter fit snugly around the boy's head.

"He's mine," Sanzo agreed, since it wasn't far from the truth. He kept his voice flat and dull, hoping the boy would get bored and leave.

Either it worked very well or the boy simply had other things to do, because he grinned and started backing up, giving them a short wave. "Take care of your dragon. He's pretty cool!" With that he turned on his heel and ran off.

Sanzo's gaze followed the boy a little longer than necessary, just long enough to see the boy be greeted unceremoniously by an orange-haired man smacking him upside the head. Somehow the interaction reminded Sanzo of Gojyo.

Shaking his head, he decided to put the event out of his mind and continue his way back to the inn. Hakkai and Gojyo were in the lounge when he arrived. Both looked cleaner, calmer, and more than ready for something to eat.

"You took a little longer than usual," Hakkai observed as he stood up.

"A monkey ran into me," Sanzo said flippantly. Gojyo snorted, but Hakkai merely nodded and dropped the subject. They went to order dinner, which turned out to be typical: a fairly quiet, eventless affair punctuated by small talk about their plans for the next few days and the strange lack of assassins as of late. It was nothing unusual and nothing remarkable. Just like any other day.

During dinner Hakuryuu had kept well-hidden beneath the table as he usually did, curled up at Hakkai's feet. He popped up when Hakkai leaned over to offer him some food, but otherwise stayed out of sight. That was fine with Sanzo, since he didn't know if the inn owner would care to see an animal of any sort in their diner.

The rest of the night and the next morning went as expected. Sanzo paid for their food and they retired to their rooms, where he slept restlessly, but with the blissful absence of the voice that would pop up occasionally. Somehow he took that as a sign that the voice, whoever it belonged to, was content.

------

Dawn came and Sanzo showered as usual, with less shampoo than the evening before. He dried and dressed quickly, pausing to have a morning smoke by the window before the first hints of sunrise peeked over the horizon. Sanzo watched the scenery for a few brief minutes before heading into the hallway, scriptures, weapon, and bedroom key with him.

It was in the hallway things abruptly took a turn for the worse.

"Excuse me." It was too early for many people to be up, and the voice definitely did _not_ belong to either of his companions. Sanzo looked up sharply, his eyes falling on a middle-aged man who stood off to the side but noticeably in his way. His eyes were closed, but he gave off the impression he was staring at Sanzo. "We would like to request a few minutes of you and your friends' time."

"What friends?" Sanzo returned flatly. Something about this man rubbed him the wrong way immediately; he didn't know why, but Sanzo instantly decided he did _not_ like him. It was a rare occurrence when his instincts proved to be wrong. "And who is this 'we?' "

A faint smile tugged the corners of the man's lips. "Your companions, of course," he said mildly, blatantly ignoring the second question.

"They're not my friends," Sanzo said. Just as he finished his sentence a door opened just behind him across from his room.

"Hey, hey," he heard Gojyo mutter. The half-breed sounded a little groggy as he stepped into the hallway. His hair was tied back into a ponytail, dripping water down the nape of his neck, but he hardly seemed to care. "What's all the commotion about, priesty?"

"Nothing. Where's Hakkai?"

Gojyo shrugged, one eye lazily observing their guest. His posture remained relaxed, but the hard glint in his gaze suggested that he was more awake than he let on. "Shower, most likely. You know, we could get a move on a lot faster if we all had separate rooms."

"Like you two would even use the extra room," Sanzo muttered.

"Hey, Hakkai's fun and all, but I miss courting women too, you know."

A voice scoffed behind them. "Well, they are as hell haven't changed much. Have they, Shien?"

"Indeed," the man in front of Sanzo agreed. The priest locked that bit of information away; though he didn't want it too, it seemed as though the situation was going to get ugly. He might as well know their names if he could.

Sanzo turned to get a look of their other new arrival. Part of him started inwardly; he recognized the man from somewhere, and it didn't take much thinking to realize it was the same man the golden-eyed boy had run to the day before. He wasted a moment wondering if the boy was around as well.

"Oh, I disagree," a new voice cut in. "I think they're quite different. A little more charismatic, perhaps."

Sanzo looked to his right again, getting annoyed with the random appearances. This time it was a man with tousled black hair, part of it nearly covering a blue eye. Sanzo's first thought was that he must be the ringleader of the little carnival. His second thought was the realization that this man's right eye was gold.

_Just like the brat I saw yesterday,_ he thought grimly. If he remembered correctly, they didn't look anything alike, but the golden eyes seemed to link them. Perhaps they were brothers? Somehow that didn't seem right, and neither did cousins. The latter seemed more appropriate, but still not entirely correct.

"Well, isn't this fucked up," he heard Gojyo mutter beneath his breath. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Sanzo; that these men weren't here to make things any easier for them. "Kougaiji's new assassins, you think?"

"Maybe," Sanzo said quietly. It was possible, but at the same time didn't quite fit. There was a determination in the leader's eyes that was unlike the suicidal bravado Kougaiji's assassins displayed. Not to mention that these men lacked the physical demonic traits, and _that_ was too unusual for one of Kougaiji's men.

The leader caught Sanzo's eye again before he spoke. "You need not worry, Konzen. We realize you're on a very tight schedule, so we'd like to keep this as simple and quick as possible."

"If you were really so considerate, you'd keep it even more simple and quick by getting out of our sight," Sanzo retorted. "In any case, you seem to have the wrong guy."

Gojyo and Hakkai's door opened again, as the last of their group came out to join them. Hakkai was silent at first, his face turning left and right as though he could see the intruders. Not sounding surprised, somehow even mildly amused, he remarked, "It seems we have company."

_Indeed_, Sanzo thought dryly. "And we were just leaving." He had barely taken a step forward when the leader spoke again.

"It involves the Maten scriptures."

The words successfully stopped Sanzo in his tracks. He gave the ebon-haired man a sharp look, eyes narrowed. From his attire it was obvious he was a Sanzo priest, so he wouldn't have been surprised if the man had merely mentioned the scriptures. The fact he knew exactly which scrolls Sanzo wore immediately made him skeptical-- and wary.

Smirking, the man made an overly dramatic gesture toward the end of the hallway. "Shall we take this outside?"

Nodding once, Sanzo gave his companions a brief glance before following the intruders. The glimpse had given him enough time to note the worried stitch in Hakkai's brow, as well as the displeased expression on Gojyo's face.

Whatever. They would have to put up with the suspension as much as he had to.

It didn't take long for them to get down to business. Once outside the leader turned to Sanzo, a smug smirk on his lips.

"The Maten scripture," he said calmly. "You will give it to me."

"Like hell." Though his demeanor was composed and quiet, inside Sanzo was bursting with a sudden onslaught of questions. Who did this bastard think he was? It was looking more and more like he was an assassin, but there was _still_ that persistent voice in the back of Sanzo's mind insisting he was wrong. If he wasn't an assassin, what would he want with the scriptures?

The man gave a long-suffering sigh before he smirked again. "Of course. Perhaps I should introduce myself first." He extended a hand, not to shake, merely a gesture as though he were offering something. "I am the War Prince Homura," he said. "And yes, my companions and I are gods." He arched an eyebrow as though someone had said something interesting. Then he chuckled. "Well, most of us."

"How nice," Sanzo replied, deadpan.

"I think so, too."

The response caused annoyance to flare in Sanzo's chest. He didn't like this man's attitude. And anyway, what proof did he have this freak really was a god? He then noted the chakra on his forehead. _He may be a god,_ he admitted grudgingly. _But god or not, he's making a stupid request._

"Now that introductions have been made, I shall only repeat myself once. You will give me the Maten scripture." He wasn't holding his hand out as a gesture, Sanzo suddenly realized. He was expecting Sanzo to put the scrolls right into his possession.

What a waste of time. Sanzo reached into his robes, drawing out his gun and aiming the muzzle at the center of the god's forehead. Rather than flinch or withdraw, Homura's smirk merely widened to a grin. He spread his arms as though to embrace the anticipated shot.

"By all means, Konzen," the man said silkily. He seemed to be enjoying the situation; from the corner of his eye Sanzo caught the orange-haired companion looking equally amused. Their flippant attitudes made his stomach press into his spine. He had a bad feeling. "By all means," Homura repeated.

Sanzo fired.

He knew he had aimed right. Using a gun for seven years had given him enough practice to not just be a good marksman, but a near _perfect_ one. If his target was standing still there was no way he could miss unless he was bumped into to throw his aim off. Sanzo had even spent _days_ going out into the woods and practicing against trees, even animals before he had found the Chang'an temple.

That was why it stunned him when the bullet, by some twist of bad luck, missed. Not only missed, but _badly_. It hit the ground nearly a yard from Homura's feet.

"What the hell?" he heard someone whisper faintly. It took him a moment to realize it was his own voice. It took him another few moments to realize Gojyo had moved up behind him.

"Hey," the redhead muttered, putting a hand on Sanzo's shoulder. Sanzo instinctively shrugged him off, but it didn't deter Gojyo. "Take a look." He nodded toward the ground, where the bullet had hit. Sanzo frowned but looked anyway. At first he couldn't see what point Gojyo was trying to make, but it didn't take long for the connection to click.

The mark on the ground was definitely that of a bullet, but it wasn't of one when the slug hit the target. There was a tiny scuff angling away from Homura, and the bullet wasn't in immediate sight.

He hadn't missed. The bullet had been deflected. He didn't know how, and it didn't seem logically possible, but somehow it had been. That was both good and bad news; good because it meant Sanzo still had perfect aim... and bad because it meant these men were likely impervious to bullets.

_Shit,_ was the only thing Sanzo could think.

"I believe we've made our point clear." Without looking Sanzo recognized the voice as Shien's. "Let's finish up here."

"As you wish," Homura said. He lowered his hands. "However... let's be sporting and give them a fair chance, shall we?"

_What are they planning?_ Sanzo let his gaze flit briefly to the god's other two companions. Shien had a chakra on his forehead (though it was an odd-looking one), so he was most likely a god. The other man, however... he had no sign of a god that Sanzo could see. And Homura had said not all of them were gods...

The orange-haired man had sighed when Homura mentioned giving their opponents a fair chance. He seemed annoyed. "So the brat's the one that gets all the fun, huh?"

"My apologies, Zenon. Perhaps next time."

_Next time?_ Sanzo had no time to demand Homura of what he meant, because the ebon-haired man had turned his attention away from Sanzo and to the inn behind him. He raised his hand, motioning for someone to come out. But to Sanzo's knowledge everyone was already outside, even if Hakkai and Gojyo had remained oddly quiet most of the time.

Somehow, even before he turned, Sanzo knew who he would see.

The boy he had run into the day before practically fled to Homura's side. He gave Sanzo's group a quick glance before grinning broadly. "You're really serious? I get to take 'em on all by myself?"

"All by yourself," Homura agreed, taking a step back. "I'll warn you one last time: all three of them combined might be a little too much for you."

They really were that confident, Sanzo realized. He took a step back, lowering his gun but only to reload it. He caught a glimpse of Hakkai's grim expression, as well as the strangest look on Gojyo's face.

"He must be the weakest of them," Hakkai murmured, his voice low enough so only Sanzo and Gojyo could hear. "But if they really think he might be able to defeat us..."

"They're just underestimating us," Gojyo growled. He sounded less than happy about the situation. "That's not what's really buggin' me, though. What bothers _me_ is that the brat seems awfully familiar."

It was a foolish idea to take his eyes off the enemy, but Sanzo couldn't help it. He turned to look at Gojyo directly, his lips thinning into a hard line. "Did you meet him before?"

"Hell, no," Gojyo said irritably. "I'd remember _that_."

That was probably true, Sanzo guessed. After all, it wasn't every day you ran into a demon wearing any sort of power-suppressing device. Not anymore.

"It's just..." Gojyo's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "He seems familiar... and yet all I want to do is beat his head in."

And that pretty much summed things up. It sounded stupid, and he didn't want to admit it, but Sanzo knew what Gojyo was talking about. He hadn't felt it the first time they'd met, but now that Gojyo had mentioned it, this boy _did_ seem familiar, in a strange way.

The boy seemed to be getting impatient, because he moved forward, his hand extended as he called out a strange name. A staff materialized in his hand just as one golden eye narrowed in a presumptuous look.

"Come on," he said. "Let's do this already!"

It wasn't as though they had much of a choice. Cocking his Smith & Wesson, Sanzo ignored the sudden rise of the achingly familiar voice within the back of his mind and fired the first round.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: R

Pairings: Homura/Goku, hinted Gojyo/Hakkai and Goku/Sanzo

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, violence, language, yaoi, lime

Notes: Many apologies for the long wait. But we're finally all moved in, and things are starting to settle down again.

Thank you for the reviews. I was surprised to come back online to that many. _Many_ thanks for the concrit.

Constructive criticism and feedbackare appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Fourteen_

It had been a while since he'd been promised a good challenge. True, he had not once beat any of his instructors in training, and they were more than challenging enough. But this time it was going to be a _real_ thrill. Goku could sense it. This was going to be a fight where no one would be holding back-- and his opponents were strong.

He didn't know how he knew it, but they were. It made blood pound in his ears with excitement.

"Come on," he said, grinning. "Let's do this already!"

He recognized the blonde man from yesterday. It was strange, he thought absently, that he should run into him the day before he had to fight him. Homura had told them they were going to find a certain group of people -- of which one of the members included a Sanzo who was in possession of something they absolutely needed -- but he hadn't given Goku a physical description. Zenon and Shien seemed to have known who they were looking for, but Goku had been kept completely in the dark. That made their first real meeting all the more exciting.

He was going to beat these men into the ground.

The blonde one, the one Homura had called Konzen, brought his gun up and fired. Goku had spent hours dodging Zenon's machine gun, so eluding a single bullet was simple in comparison. An arrogant part of him wanted him to show off, to slip to the side and make it look as though dodging it was easier than it looked. But the last time he'd tried that Shien had nearly taken his head off-- and would have if _he_ hadn't pulled back in time to just nick Goku's throat. Homura had been furious and Goku had thought he'd never hear the end of it.

_I can show off when Homura's not around,_ Goku decided. That was, of course, if these men somehow managed to escape alive.

"Gonna have to do better'n that," he said smugly, tightening his grip on the staff as he moved forward. If he swung hard enough he could probably take this man's head off.

Konzen stepped back and Goku got a brief glimpse of the hard glint behind them. Before he could actually make his move, however, the redhead behind Konzen ducked beneath the blonde's arm, a sneer on his lips. Goku barely had time to blink before the side of the man's weapon clipped him upside the head. The metal connected with his diadem with a resonating _clang_. Goku yelped as he fell back, stumbling before he managed to find his footing at glare at the man.

"Don't think we'll go easy on a brat," the redhead snapped.

_So they _are_ strong._ Goku shook his head, the echoing in his mind finally fading. It annoyed him that he had been hit so easily, but at the same time it made him more excited.

Goku grinned. "Don't think I'll go easy on you, either," he replied. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice; he had more than one opponent to deal with, and he had to remember that. He only wished he knew if their other friend was able to fight as well.

"Your attitude gets on my nerves, kid."

"If that's so, then shut up and fight!" With a loud cry erupting form his chest, Goku leapt up, this time gripping _Nyoibou_ at the center and swinging down. The redhead managed to dodge, but Goku was ready for that. He kicked out where he expected the man to be-- and was shocked to find their third friend catch his ankle.

The man's eyes bothered him for some reason. They looked normal enough, but strangely unfocused. Before Goku could take time to wonder why that was, the stranger smiled and said, "Sorry. I just found your greeting a little rude." With that he unclenched his fingers, giving the boy's leg a hard shove. Toppling off balance, Goku hit the dirt with a grunt. He dimly realized that the area behind his eyes was beginning to ache.

The sound of metal clinking reached his ears. Instinctively knowing it was the gun, Goku rolled over on his side, this time barely avoiding the hit without meaning to. He swore softly, pushing himself back and to his feet before Konzen fired again.

A short grunt told him the redhead had somehow gotten behind him. Annoyance sparked as Goku brought his staff up just in time to block the attack. The man with unsettling eyes hardly gave him a chance to draw back; the moment their weapons parted he moved in, one of his palms glowing. Belatedly realizing it was something Shien had once taught him was _chi_ -- power that was semi-solidified, just enough to hurt an opponent -- Goku had to throw himself to the side to avoid the blast. The result was him crashing into Konzen.

Both of them tumbled to the ground, Konzen on his back and Goku to his side. The blonde cursed him loudly, sounding winded from the fall. Goku had to scramble to his feet, which luckily turned out to be in time to avoid Konzen hitting him on the head with his gun. The discomfort behind his eyes was growing to a noticeable pulsating pain.

The four paused in their scuffle for a quick breather. The redhead was the one to break the momentary silence. "You're just like any other brat out there, aren't you?" He sneered a bit. "All talk; hardly any action."

"I didn't see you land a hit," Goku retorted, spitting on the ground. Good. No blood in his mouth.

To his surprise, the disturbing-eyed man chuckled. "He does have a point," he said.

The redhead shot him a disgusted look. "Don't get high and mighty just because you pushed him down."

"Is that what I was doing, Gojyo?"

"Yes!"

"Ah. My apologies, then. I'll watch my ego next time."

Goku blinked, puzzled by the odd exchange. He tightened his grip on the staff; now that he had caught a moment to breathe and somewhat sort his thoughts he was excited again. The fight had turning out to be a little tougher than expected-- even if it _was_ three against one. And he now had a name for the redhead. Gojyo. He wasn't sure why this knowledge felt important, but it did.

Goku noted with relief that his headache had faded somewhat.

"If we're done screwing around, I believe we have a situation to finish attending to," Konzen said to his companions, his voice clipped. He turned his seemingly everlasting glare to Goku, raising and cocking his gun again. Goku smirked in response, lifting his own weapon. He was ready.

This time he made the first move, launching himself at Gojyo. Their weapons clashed, tremors from the brief aftermath making Goku's hands shudder momentarily. The same tremors startled Gojyo and he immediately applied pressure, managing to tear the weapon free of one of the redhead's hands. He still grasped the _shakujyo_, but Goku's force had knocked it to his side, leaving Goku an opening to throw a punch at the man's face.

Instead of connecting with flesh and bone Goku's hand hit something invisible but agonizingly solid. He cried out, stumbling back and clenching his fist to his chest, seething as the sharp pain stung through his knuckles. _What the hell was that?!_

"Are you all right?" the creepy-eyed man was asking Gojyo.

"Yeah, barely," Gojyo muttered. "Thanks, Hakkai."

_"Barely" my ass,_ Goku thought irritably, stooping to pick up his fallen staff. What had he hit? It had felt like a stone wall-- and a rough one at that. Glancing down, Goku noted that the skin over his knuckles was scraped and red.

Whatever it was, it seemed to have come from the brunette beside Gojyo. Goku would have to be more wary of him. He wasn't sure if it was a result of hitting the invisible wall, the stinging in his hand reminding him about the rest of his body, but the headache was back and nearly doubly strong.

In any case, it seemed as though it would be safer for him to only use his staff. Goku huffed, narrowing his eyes and digging one heel into the dirt. He willed one of his opponents to make a move.

He saw Gojyo glance sideways at Hakkai, a tiny secretive smile on his lips. Oddly enough, Hakkai didn't look back, but he was the one to make the first move. He strode forward; his mouth set in a grim like that somehow struck Goku as unusual. Watching in momentary mute fascination, Goku saw light throb between Hakkai's hands.

He dodged just before the _chi_ erupted. Grinning, Goku raised his staff to hit Hakkai on the back of the head, a yell half formed in his throat.

A clatter of chains was his only warning. Too late to dodge, Goku gave out another cry. This one was one of pain as a string of linked chains wrapped around his wrist, pulled tight by the heavy, pointed crescent-shaped object at the end. _Nyoibou_ fell from his hands. Goku hit the ground, choking on a squawk of pain. _Shit--!_

"Got ya, you little punk," Gojyo's voice ground in through his thoughts.

"Bastard," Goku gasped, writhing and tugging fiercely on his restraints. From the corner of his eye he saw Zenon step forward, but then he hesitated. Homura must have silently motioned for him to stop, because his lips were pulled tight in a cross expression.

That basically meant he'd have to fight his own way out. Well, that was fine with him.

At least, it was until Konzen stood over him with a withering look that somehow only made Goku feel guilty. He couldn't explain why, but the man's face made him flinch.

"You idiots messed with the wrong guy," the blonde said, his voice callous. One eye narrowed as he took aim, the muzzle directed at the boy's chest.

Zenon seemed to have grown impatient, because Goku could hear him readying the machine gun at the same moment the boy got an idea. With a loud grunt, Goku raised his foot, kicking out hard at the blonde's closest knee. It connected with a sharp sound. A shriek ripped itself out of Konzen the same time his finger pulled the trigger.

When he toppled back and the chains abruptly loosened on Goku, he realized the man had missed. He ripped free of the restraints even as he heard his opponents shouted out a name Goku didn't recognize. Gojyo was running forward, swearing violently as he tried to help the blonde to his feet. Konzen snarled something, trying to swat at him, but was forced to let him help when they found out he couldn't put his weight on the leg Goku had kicked without falling over.

Goku took a few steps back before he turned to grin at Homura. "I did it!"

Homura didn't look pleased. He lowered his eyes, staring at the boy's hands. Firmly, he said, "We'll withdraw for now."

"What?" Goku demanded.

"We will withdraw," Homura repeated. Zenon was moving swiftly toward them.

Goku didn't understand, though he thought he did a moment later when he shook his head, rudely reminded of the ache behind his eyes. He hissed, doubling over on the ground as the pain palpitated. He whimpered and reached up to press his hands into his eyes, but Zenon cuffed him on the side of the head.

"Stop that, you moron!" Zenon grabbed the boy's left wrist in a tight grip. "Look at your damn hand!"

Confused, not really wanting to look at anything, Goku forced one eye open to do as he was told. His face tingled from the sudden loss of blood as he paled. He couldn't remember feeling it, but there was a round wound in his hand, penetrating all the way through.

"What," he murmured, and then hissed. His brain finally made the connection with his palm and now it felt as though his hand had suddenly been thrust into the middle of a fire. Goku jerked away from Zenon, gripping the wrist and curled over completely on the ground as he struggled not to scream. The drums banging between his ears and the flame engulfing his hand made it hard, and he couldn't hold back strained cries.

"You idiot," he dimly heard Zenon mutter. The man forced him to his feet, though he was generous enough to keep an arm encircled around the boy's midsection. Goku wanted to kick him, but the headache was worsening, making it hard for him to remember how to breathe.

"I apologize about the unexpected setback." Homura's smooth voice barely reached his ears; Goku struggled to listen. Somehow he thought the man's words would be important. "We will return once both our parties have had time to recuperate."

"How generous of you," Goku heard Gojyo sneer. "Real damn generous."

With an exaggerated bow and a mocking smirk, Homura turned back to his friends. His eyes fell on Goku a moment before he looked up, past Goku's current field of vision. He leaned against Zenon, opening his mouth to speak, but Homura beat him to it.

"Let's go."

Without knowing why, Goku lifted his head to look back at his adversaries. He caught a glimpse of the blonde man, one thought crossing his mind before his vision went out of focus.

_It's golden... just like the sun._

_------_

He didn't look up when he heard the door open. Already knowing who it was, he only opened his eyes when the man spoke.

"I know you're awake. Sit up."

Goku reluctantly obeyed. He pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing one of his eyes groggily before a glass of milk was pushed into his field of vision. Blinking, Goku quietly accepted the gift and gulped down half the contents.

Homura pushed on his arm, making him lower the glass. "These will help your headache," he said simply, handing the boy a couple small white pills.

His migraine had disappeared upon awakening, surprisingly enough, but Goku decided not to say anything. Homura expected him to still have a headache, so why shouldn't he? Nodding, Goku took the pills and popped them both onto his tongue, taking a mouthful of liquid and using it to help swallow the medicine down.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Simply nodding, Homura sat down beside the boy, taking his glass when it was empty and setting it aside. "I really am disappointed in you."

Goku's head snapped up, his eyes widening. "What? What'd I do?" he demanded. Panic forced a lump up in his throat, and his first wild thought was if he'd done something to make Homura angry. After getting a few moments to think, Goku realized the man wasn't at all angry-- he was exactly what he'd claimed: disappointed.

He carefully chose his words again. "What'd I do to make you... upset?"

"Not upset," Homura corrected. "Disappointed."

"Okay, okay. What'd I do?" he repeated, growing annoyed.

Homura shook his head, scooting so his back was to the wall. He brought one knee up, locking his fingers at his shin and closing his eyes. His voice mild, he said, "I did say the three of them might overwhelm you, but I hardly thought you were so weak that you would let Konzen shoot you."

Now _that_ wasn't fair. Bristling, Goku said hotly, "It's not like I wanted him to! And least I avoided getting killed!"

Homura opened one eye; his golden one. He pinned the boy with a stern look, and even using only one eye he sent foreboding chills down Goku's spine. "That is _not_ good enough," he said. "You weren't able to take even one of them down. I know we have been putting you through harsh and extensive training. I expect better next time."

Flushing, Goku looked down at his hands. The left was wrapped several times with bandages, but the bleeding had long before stopped. Hesitantly, he began to unwrap the injury, his movements quicker when Homura made no move to stop him. He cringed when he saw the damage; some of the skin around the mark was burned and raw-looking.

Even if the criticism hurt, Goku knew Homura was right. He _should_ have done better. It had been his own damn fault for not watching all three of his enemies, for concentrating on one at a time instead of keeping his senses open.

It was just that, for some reason, Goku felt _comfortable_ with them. A part of him said he shouldn't _have_ to keep his guard up around those men. It was stupid and wrong to think, but it was a gut-deep feeling he had been unable to shake.

"You should wrap it back up," Homura advised, picking up the bandages before Goku could even blink. The brunette nodded slowly, reaching for them with his good hand, but Homura ignored him and held the strips of cloth out of reach. He grabbed Goku's wrist with his free hand, tugging insistently. Goku obediently hitched across the mattress and Homura began to meticulously rewrap the wound.

"Does it still hurt?"

"A little," Goku muttered, wiggling his fingers impatiently.

Homura nodded, finally finishing the job by using a metal clip to hold the bandages together. "If you would rather have it knotted again, ask Zenon. I don't tie knots very well."

Goku snorted. "You? Can't do something? That's real funny..."

"Even I have flaws," Homura smirked. He still hadn't relinquished his hold on the boy, and when the smirk faded Goku found out why. Without taking his eyes off the boy's face, Homura brought Goku's bandaged hand to his mouth, his lips pressed gently over the wound area. It wasn't quite a kiss, but not quite a simple touch, either.

When he found his voice again, Goku was embarrassed to realize his voice was a little hoarse. "Homura... you're acting weird."

Snorting, Homura let go of him. "Not one to easily romance, are you? I thought that was what you wanted."

"I don't wanna be treated like a _girl_," Goku said irritably, absently rubbing his wrist.

Homura shrugged at his response, sighing as he stretched out across the bed, his feet resting beside Goku. "As you wish."

Despite Homura's easy attitude, Goku had the sinking feeling he'd hurt the man on some level. He wasn't sure _exactly_ how, but the man's eyes had dimmed a little when Goku had reminded him of his masculinity.

Goku made a face, crawling on his good hand until he could lean down with his face level to Homura's. The god watched him, unblinking, his expression unchanging. After a few moments of staring Goku huffed, squirming on top of the man, his left arm draped over Homura's shoulder. "I didn't mean that I don't appreciate you doin' nice things," Goku said.

Placing a hand on the boy's side, Homura nodded, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. "I've never pegged you as the ungrateful type."

Goku pretended he hadn't spoken. "I just meant that... it feels weird when you do things like that."

"Weird as in uncomfortable?"

"I dunno," he admitted.

Homura pursed his lips. After taking some time to think -- though over what, Goku didn't know -- he nodded. "Complaint considered," he said. "But as I am not a mind reader, you will have to help me out."

"Deal." Grinning, Goku squirmed upward, pretending not to notice when his crotch rubbed against Homura's. He nipped playfully at the man's lower lip. "But if it's obviously girly, I'll kill you."

"Will you, now?" Homura arched an eyebrow. "Not very considerate for a lover, are you?"

"I'm _very_ considerate," Goku retorted. "In fact, I'm so considerate I'm going to let you give me a massage."

Seeming more amused than put off, Homura asked, "What makes you think I will?"

"So you can prove you can turn me on without groping me," the boy suggested. "And because my head still hurts a little, and you're just nice like that." It was a lie, actually. His headache still had yet to return, something that actually perplexed Goku. Still, it wasn't fair that he had to go through all that pain and only get a lecture and a hug or two in return.

Looking skeptical, Homura slid both hands over the boy's sides before sliding them around his back, moving slowly from his neck to his lower spine. All he did was sink the pads of his fingers into certain pressure points, but that alone was enough to make Goku closed his eyes and sigh in contentment.

"You are easily pleased," Homura said quietly. Goku didn't miss the touch of mirth coloring the god's voice.

"Am not," he murmured, letting his cheek rest against Homura's collarbone. He could feel the man's chin on his head and nuzzled against him unconsciously. "Higher."

For once not cracking a smart-ass joke, Homura simply did as requested. This time he applied more strength with his touch, kneading the muscles at the base of Goku's skull. Goku hadn't realized he was so tense until he actually began to relax. He mumbled senselessly, enjoying Homura's strong fingers massaging the back of his neck, and then between his shoulder blades.

"Feel better?" Homura asked lightly.

"Mm... much," Goku agreed. He used his right arm to prop himself up a little, shifting so he could look directly into Homura's eyes. He grinned before leaning down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "Thanks." Hoping he gave nothing away in his expression, Goku shifted so his thigh was pressed comfortably between Homura's legs.

Naturally, the movement didn't go unnoticed. Quirking an eyebrow, Homura glanced down, though it did him little good since Goku was still lying atop him. "Your leg--"

"You stopped," Goku interrupted with a whine. He wriggled against Homura; the feeling of the man's firm abdomen beneath his crotch sent shivers through his spine. "Keep rubbing."

Homura scoffed lightly, but did as he was told. He resumed the massage, gradually working his way down to Goku's lower back. "You," he murmured, "are not a very good actor."

Something akin to a purr stuck itself in Goku's throat. Curving his spine to press his body harder against his lover's, he said in a slightly shaky voice, "Yeah, but... it feels real good. I like it."

Homura smirked. "Most people prefer it without their shirt on."

It took a moment for the comment to register in Goku's mind. He blinked, pulling back slightly before he grunted and pushed himself up. A sting of pain shot through his hand, making him grimace, but he ignored it and quickly tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside. Before Homura could reach for him again Goku grabbed the man's chains, pulling.

"Hey. Why can't you take these off?"

Bi-colored eyes narrowed slightly, but Homura's voice remained the same. "I'm not allowed to."

Puzzled, Goku tugged on them again. "But you took 'em off once and--"

"I may remove one shackle to undress," Homura cut in. "And even then, it has to be quick."

"But you're not in the heavens anymore."

Sighing, Homura gently pried the chains from his lover's hand. He forced Goku to move back a little and sit on his thighs as he sat up, placing a hand on the back of the brunette's neck to pull him forward for a kiss.

"No more questions," he said quietly when they parted. "Unless you would rather talk instead." Goku shut up, pushing at Homura's chest. The god fell back to the bed easily, the beginnings of his familiar smirk on his lips. "I thought so."

"Shut up," Goku muttered. He lowered his mouth to Homura's, tilting the man's head back into the pillow with the barely-chaste kiss. At the same time he moved his leg back between both of Homura's again, rubbing against him purposefully. The soft hiss he drew from his lover pleased him. The last time had been his first experience with any sort of sex, so things had been focused on him. This time around he was going to make Homura feel something. He _had_ to, especially if he wanted to call the man his lover.

"Mine," he mumbled when the kiss broke, his breath already coming in short. He shifted his hips against Homura, making the slight bulge in his pants more apparent. Homura moved slowly, his hands sliding up the boy's side, then going to his head as he threaded his fingers in Goku's hair. The petting felt nice, and Goku couldn't help the soft rumble in his chest that resulted from it.

Slipping down until his groin rested over Homura's, Goku used his good hand to grip the man's arm. He shuddered as he ground his hips against the man, enjoying the slight but noticeable tremors that shook Homura's body.

_I can turn him on,_ he thought, pleased by the revelation. Goku's eyes lapsed shut, a soft murmur escaping as Homura tightened his fingers against the boy's skull. After all his petting there would be no knots left... unless he messed it up again, of course.

Goku dug his fingernails into Homura's arm, biting his tongue to muffle the small moans already rising in his throat. He was startled when Homura suddenly released his head, instead grasping the boy's waist to still him. When Goku protested Homura clamped a hand over his mouth. Only slightly winded, Homura said, "Most people... remove their pants for this part, too." His mouth twisted in a humoring smirk.

_Conceited bastard,_ thought Goku a few minutes later; he wisely kept his inner comments to himself. He tightened his grip, rubbing his lover faster. "Just... tell me if I'm doing it right," he said, unable to hide his nervousness.

A barely audible scoff sounded above Goku. "If I can't speak properly... then you're exceeding my expectations."

Stung by the remark, Goku let go of the man and looked up. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

Homura sighed and pushed himself back up on his elbow, motioning for Goku to come closer. When he obeyed Homura grabbed the boy's chin with his thumb and forefinger, bringing him forward. Goku closed his eyes, expecting a kiss, but none came.

"I'm simply saying," Homura said in an undertone, "that for your first time, it would not be wise to expect to affect me much."

"You did plenty to me," Goku pointed out, opening his eyes.

Homura didn't blink. "It wasn't my first time."

Goku's eyes narrowed. He pulled free of Homura's grasp, the words falling out before he could think about them. "With who?"

Homura sighed. "Does it matter?"

"Yes," Goku insisted. "It does! I hate secrets and you know it!" Shaking his head, Homura gently but insistently pushed the boy off him. He pulled his pants back up, buttoning them before Goku could find his voice. "Where're you going?"

"To take a shower," was the simple answer.

"But--"

"I'm tired." Homura paused long enough to tug affectionately on a long strand of the boy's hair. "I won't be long. You ought to get dressed," he added firmly. It was clearly the end of discussion-- and the end of their nightly activities. Sulking, Goku gathered his clothes, taking exaggerated care to not look up as Homura walked out. Once the door shut behind Homura, Goku cursed softly.

He gave the rumpled bed an angry look, as though to blame it for his problems. Today had just been a bad day. He'd lost horribly in the fight, had gotten injured (and would most likely have the scar to prove it), and worst of all, he had _somehow_ screwed things up in an attempt to get laid.

Life sucked. Goku scowled, sitting down on the bed again and kicking at the covers childishly. Really, what was Homura's problem? Whatever it was, he was really good at hiding it most of the time-- too damn good. It was difficult for Goku to realize there was something bothering him, especially when it involved something Goku was sure didn't have everything to do with him.

_Sucks, sucks, sucks,_ he reiterated. He didn't stop kicking until he'd rid the bed of its top blanket. Then he rolled over on his stomach, sighing heavily and burying his head in his arms. _Geez_

He tried to relax and found that helped a little. He allowed his mind to wander, thinking aimlessly over various things-- and then, of all things, he remembered Konzen.

That man had been intriguing, he remembered. The first time they'd bumped into each other Goku had hardly given him a second glance, but the face had somehow burned itself in his mind. Something about those piercing violet eyes and blonde hair was appealing. Especially the blonde hair. It reminded Goku of what he would think about in his cave, about his wish for the Sun.

_Maybe he was supposed to find me._

The thought was idle, but when Goku held on to it for more than a fleeting moment he suddenly found it hard to breathe. His head snapped up, eyes widening. What if that man _was_ it? He conjured an image of the sun so vividly in Goku's mind, made him almost able to feel its warmth.

"Oh, gods," he breathed, scrambling to his feet. He was jamming his boots on without thinking. He briefly wondered if he should leave Homura a note of some sort. Lingering annoyance at his lover made him dismiss the idea. Goku hurried out of the room, and to his good fortune he didn't meet Homura in the hallway.

He slammed his hand against the button at the far wall, feeling his heartbeat quicken with excitement. Thoughts of betrayal weren't on his mind, and nothing akin to disloyalty made him hesitate, either. He just had a strong, unexplainable urge to see this Konzen person. _I have to see him,_ he thought.

By some miracle, he didn't run into Shien or Zenon, either. Before he knew it he was outside, running away from the tower and in the direction they had visited Konzen and his companions earlier.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: none

Warnings: AU-ish, violence, language

Notes: As always, many thanks for the reviews. I love the concrit I get, and the feedback, and it's so thrilling to know people are enjoying the story.

As for betaing, I'm not sure when, if ever, my beta will have time to help me with this particular project. So I'll just redouble my efforts and do better on my own. It's good practice anyway.

I still intend to update on Christmas. Happy Holidays, everyone!

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Fifteen_

Insomnia was really the _last_ thing he needed bothering him. Unfortunately, Sanzo's mind had never been one to agree with his body. He was restless, and it was this that made him exasperatedly give up any hope of getting to sleep.

Making sure he had everything necessary with him, Sanzo left the inn as quietly as possible. Outside was a little chilly, but he was protected from the cold well enough in his robes. Sanzo hadn't walked very far before a flare of pain in his knee rudely reminded him that he wasn't completely healed yet. Grimacing, he quickly found a railing to lean against, taking the weight off his injured leg.

_Damn brat,_ he thought in annoyance, searching for his cigarettes and lighter. It was that damned kid's fault he was limping, even nearly a week after the fight.

That child was one of the reasons he hadn't been able to sleep, too. He wasn't certain how, but Sanzo _knew_ that boy was the one the Sanbutsushin had ordered him to take with them. Hell, not just that, but they had to halt their journey wherever they saw him, not making any further advances until they had the brat going with them.

What a pain in the ass.

Taking a deep drag from the cigarette served to mollify Sanzo's nerves a little. Blowing smoke out between taut lips, Sanzo allowed himself to relax against the railing of the inn. It wasn't too bad a place; it was sturdily built, but the designer had taken time to make sure it looked decent as well. The framework had a simple pattern carved into it. Sanzo lazily trailed a finger over it, gladly letting the idle thoughts distract him from his previous worries.

By the time his cigarette had burned into little more than a stub Sanzo was feeling far more relaxed. His leg didn't ache as much, either. Flexing his knee a bit, Sanzo ground out his cigarette and looked toward the back of the inn. The town was a tiny, compact place, three sides of it surrounded by dense forest. It would be easy for demons to ambush them, what with the inn so close to the woods.

Well, if they were smart -- which they usually weren't -- they wouldn't bother Sanzo tonight. He pulled out another cigarette, holding it between his lips as he brought out the lighter. A faint, warm breeze tickled the back of his neck.

A sudden dull crash behind him made Sanzo drop the lighter. He was on his feet, whirling around to face the enemy; unfortunately, he also lost his cigarette in his startled state.

At first he saw nothing. A small groan of pain made him arch an eyebrow, and stepping back to the railing he could see a mess of brown hair. His assailant had fallen face-first to the ground.

When his attacker pushed himself up, whining softly and rubbing his nose, Sanzo was both nonplussed and not surprised to see it was the boy who had been causing him insomnia. The boy rolled over on his knees in front of Sanzo with a sheepish look on his face. "Hi," he said abashedly.

Sanzo twitched.

The boy quickly picked himself up, dusting off his jeans. It was the first time Sanzo had ever really taken notice of what the boy was wearing; his jeans were ordinary enough-- faded and dirty, made unusual by the stitched crimson flames from the knees down. His shirt made Sanzo raise an eyebrow. It was black with mesh from the lower collar to his throat and from his shoulders to his wrists, making them weak as long sleeves.

The boy's eyes kept flickering to Sanzo, his expression a mixture of awe and delight. It made Sanzo uncomfortable.

"Um..." The boy seemed at a loss for words, but he quickly fixed it. "Oh, good. You're standing!" He seemed oddly relieved.

Narrowing his eyes, Sanzo said flatly, "You didn't kick me that hard. Don't be so full of yourself, you brat." In reality, Hakkai had prodded at his knee after the fight, determining it was fractured. Since it was a minor fracture the man had been able to heal it fine, but the soreness behind Sanzo's kneecap still flared up if he was on his feet too often. It wasn't as bad as it had been right after the fight -- then he'd had to let Gojyo support him back to the jeep, which had been humiliating on top of everything else -- but it still acted up fairly frequently.

"I'm not a brat," the boy whined. He rested his arms on the railing, though it had to have been a little awkward since the boards of the front porch came up to his shins. The railing was low enough for Sanzo to sit on, but high enough for the boy in front of him to not be able to relax against it where he was standing. His elbows were at level with his shoulders. Sanzo noticed that the boy's left "sleeve" appeared to be torn off midway between the shoulder and elbow. "I was thinkin' about you," he began.

"How nice," Sanzo interrupted, turning away to go back inside. "Now go away."

"Hey!" The boy reached out quickly, grabbing a handful of Sanzo's sleeve. The blonde growled, ready to jerk his robes free, but for some reason the look in the boy's wide golden eyes made him hesitate. "I just wanna talk," the kid finally said, his fingers tightening on the fabric of Sanzo's robes. "Please?"

"No."

The boy's eyes narrowed. "I know which room you're sleeping in," he said stubbornly. "And I swear I'll bother you until morning if I have to!"

Sanzo used his free hand to smack the boy upside the head. The brunette yelped but still didn't let go. "Stupid," he snapped. "I'll just shoot you for good this time-- and you're in no position to kick me and get away."

"I..." The boy floundered a moment. "I'll... haunt you after you kill me!"

Rolling his eyes, Sanzo gave a final hard tug on his sleeve. The boy reluctantly let go, seeming sullen. "You," Sanzo said, "are an idiot." Despite his words he turned away from the front door, heading down the steps and around the side of the building. It wasn't because he wanted the boy's company. He was just going to go for a short walk-- and if the kid followed him, so be it.

That seemed to be the plan, because the boy scampered after him. Sanzo purposefully decided not to comment, instead opting for finding another cigarette to replace the one the damn kid had made him drop. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten that he'd dropped his lighter on the porch.

As though reading his thoughts, the boy suddenly appeared in front of him, stopping Sanzo in his tracks. Grinning, he held up the lighter Sanzo had dropped. "Need this?"

Scowling, Sanzo snatched the lighter from the boy's hands, making a soft, "Hmph," noise as he cupped his hand around the end of the cigarette. Once that was lit he tucked the lighter away again and continued walking. The ache in his leg was returning, but it wasn't unbearable just yet.

The boy bounced alongside him. Sanzo noticed from the corner of his eye that the child kept staring at him, but he pretended not to notice. They made it a good ways into the woods before Sanzo's knee started acting up again. Feigning boredom, Sanzo leaned against a tree, shifting his weight to his uninjured leg and taking a drag of his cigarette.

Wandering in idle circles in front of him, the boy dragged his feet along the pine needles beneath them. "Hey," he suddenly said. "I was wonderin'... why're you and your friends traveling?"

"None of your business," Sanzo muttered, dropping his cigarette stub to the ground. He crushed it beneath his sandal. _Damn nosy little..._

The boy sulked. "Geez... not much of a conversationalist, are you?"

"I try to keep my association with idiots to a minimum."

"Huh. You're not doing a very good job with that Gojyo guy... or whatever his name is," the boy mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

Sanzo snorted, immediately wishing he hadn't. It was going to give the kid the idea that he found him amusing-- and once children thought they had done something funny, they were only going to do it again. "Those two aren't even my friends."

"Oh." Not seeming to know what to say to that, the boy kicked at a rock that had been barely hidden beneath the thick carpet of pine needles. He made a face. "Why are you traveling with them, then?"

"None of your business," Sanzo repeated, growing annoyed quickly. "Though since we're on the subject, I ought to ask why the hell _you_ followed _me_."

Blinking, the brunette looked up to meet Sanzo's gaze. He seemed puzzled but not surprised. "Well..." He rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging and looking around as though afraid someone was going to come along and see them. Sanzo found that odd, considering a part of _him_ was worried about the same thing. "I dunno." When Sanzo rolled his eyes the boy hurried to correct himself. "I mean... I do know! It's just... hard to explain."

"Try." Sanzo folded his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes. Already he was weighing the pros and cons of shooting the boy out here. On one hand it would get him out of his hair, but on the other the gunshots would alert someone. They were well into the forest, but not _quite_ outside the range of civilization.

The boy sighed, looking up toward the heavens. "Um... I guess it's just... I was thinkin' about our fight. And you were pretty good, but I could've easily kicked your ass if it wasn't three on one--"

"If you continue babbling, I'll shut you up my own way," Sanzo growled.

Seeming to take the hint, the boy quickly went back on track. "I just thought afterwards that... well..." He huffed, seeming frustrated with himself as he struggled for the words to express his thoughts. Then again, Sanzo was beginning to doubt the brainless monkey _had_ any thoughts. He felt his brow twitch in impatience. "I guess... I felt that I should have been on your side."

_That_ had been unexpected. Blinking, Sanzo tried to make sure he had heard correctly. "Excuse me?"

The boy seemed uncomfortable now. "I dunno. I just didn't feel like I was fighting enemies when I was fighting you guys."

Of all the trite things... Sanzo rolled his eyes again, reaching up to rub his forehead. "Let me guess," he said dully. "You're regretting the path you took and now you want to switch sides."

"Like hell!" Startled by the vehemence in the boy's voice, Sanzo looked up. Golden eyes glared at him, unquestionable anger smoldering behind the brilliant irises. "Like hell," the boy repeated, his fists clenching at his sides. "I don't know why I came here, but I would _never_ switch sides!"

In other words, he was refusing to have any regrets. Despite the fact Sanzo didn't like the boy, he felt a dim sense of respect budding for him. He was pretty sure it had been Hakkai who had said at one point that living with regrets was foolish-- and Sanzo wholeheartedly agreed. Even if it did make him a hypocrite.

_Guess I'm a fool, then,_ he thought humorlessly. He shook his head, intending to ask the boy another question, but a rustling nearby made him hesitate. He reached for his robes as though to search for his cigarettes again.

"You really are an idiot," he said. "Why the hell are you bothering me?" He drew his Smith & Wesson, cocking and aiming it directly at the boy's head. When golden eyes widened with surprise, he continued unflinchingly, "Forget it. I don't want to know. Just die."

At the last instant he whipped his arm to the left, firing into the distance. There was a cry, but it was one of shock rather than pain. Cursing, Sanzo whirled just as three figures emerged from their hiding places. One dropped down from the trees above, another coming out from behind a large trunk and the final bursting out of the bushes. None looked familiar, none had demonic markings, all wore simple robes, and all bore chakras in their foreheads.

_Gods,_ Sanzo realized. He slanted the boy a look, but he appeared baffled. Clearly he recognized them, but he didn't know why they were here. That basically meant he hadn't led these gods to him-- that he really _had_ come on his own free will, possibly even without the consent of his leader.

That was interesting.

"Well." The man who had previously been hiding in the tree smirked. He stood, curiously enough, with his arms behind his back. It was obvious he was hiding something. "It seems we'd underestimated Genjo Sanzo's ability to sense us, hm?"

"I heard you, you moron," Sanzo snapped, keeping his gun trained on him. This man was his closest opponent. "You might want to practice some stealth."

"No need," the god said cockily. "You can't kill us with that-- as I'm sure you found out when you couldn't kill Lord Homura with it, either."

Narrowing his eyes, Sanzo lowered his gun, but only a little. _Damn... it really is going to take more than that to kill them, then._

The boy behind him quickly moved forward, stepping in front of Sanzo. "What are you guys doing here?" he demanded. "Homura didn't say anything about--"

"Quiet, traitor," another god snapped. The boy seemed taken aback by the accusation; he took a step backward. From his angle Sanzo could barely see dark eyebrows stitch in bewilderment. "You left Lord Homura's tower days ago. We have orders to kill Genjo Sanzo and take his scriptures."

"_And_ we have permission to kill you as well." The third god smirked.

The boy seemed at a loss for words; most of what came out of his mouth was incoherent spluttering. "I... who... _what_?"

"Enough talk! Genjo Sanzo," the first god ordered. "Hand over the scriptures and Lord Homura may spare your insignificant life."

Turning his attention away from the confused boy, Sanzo scowled. "Your lord isn't very bright if he sent you with those words," he said. He almost missed the dark look the golden-eyed boy gave him. "My answer is still no."

"Then you die." With an overly dramatic move the first god finally brought his arms out in front of him, twirling something glinting bronze in the dull moonlight. The exaggerated movements ended with both arms locked in front of him, one butterfly knife wielded in each hand.

Before Sanzo could even raise his gun in defense (even if his weapon _was_ useless against them) the second god smirked, flicking his wrist out in front of him. Smoke suddenly exploded in the air, thick and choking Sanzo almost immediately. He staggered back, trying to ignore the sting in his eyes.

"_Kyah_!" The sudden cry made him whirl around. He could barely see the boy's silhouette in front of him, his arms raised in the air. He seemed to be blocking something with the staff Sanzo remembered him using against his team only days before.

It seemed they were going to be temporary allies.

"Tch! So you _are_ going to team up with the opposing party." The voice was deep and rough; Sanzo realized it was the third god who had said nothing. Keeping a wary eye out for any other shapes or shadows, he managed to hear their conversation at the same time.

They sounded close, which was bad. Sanzo could only see five dark outlines-- the boy, dimmer contours of the god fighting him, their weapons, and the tree he had been leaning against before the gods had appeared. Everything else was covered by smoke thick and strong enough to make Sanzo's eyes water. He blinked rapidly, squinting to lessen the pain a little.

"You are _really_ pissin' me off," he heard the boy snarl. There was another loud cry, a few sharp _thwacks_ of wood against wood, and shortly after a shrill scream that ended in a gurgle.

The smoke was clearing a little. Sanzo felt a sudden presence at his side, and glancing to his right he could dimly see the boy beside him. Rather than annoyance or fear there was a glimmer of excitement in his eyes-- a glimmer Sanzo remembered seeing during their own fight days before.

"This is gonna kick so much ass," he heard the boy hiss excitedly. "Hey, Konzen-- we teammates for now?"

"My name isn't Konzen," Sanzo said flatly. He didn't bothering answering the boy's question-- it wasn't like they had a choice anyway. "Brat."

"Yeah, well, my name's not brat. It's Goku," the boy said firmly. "We teaming up or what?"

Sanzo snorted, raising his gun and turning slightly. He still couldn't see any hint of another god, or even another presence. "Like I have a choice."

"Cool. I promise I won't kill ya later, then," Goku said impishly. Sanzo rolled his eyes. That turned out to be a bad move, since it let more smoke sting his eyes. He cursed softly, reaching up to rub them instinctively.

Just as he did there was a rustle beside him. He immediately brought his gun up, firing two rounds. They connected with something, but it didn't sound like a body. From the corner of his eye he saw Goku whirl in the same direction, and without thinking why Sanzo stepped out of the boy's way.

Goku made a strangled noise as twin _clangs_ resounded around them. The smoke was fading a lot faster now, and Sanzo was able to see the two butterfly knives that Goku had barely been able to block. The blades were inches away from his face, and the boy looked pale.

The god wielding the weapons smirked, his voice haughty as he spoke. "So... this is the pathetic level... of Lord Homura's student?"

_Student?_ Sanzo eyed the boy skeptically, who glared at the god in return.

"I'm _not_ pathetic!" Goku gave a sudden hard shove. It should have thrown the god off balance, but he caught his footing quickly, bringing one of the knives around to slash at the boy's midsection. Sanzo fired at the same moment.

The god shrieked, the knife falling from his hand. Startled that he had actually hit his mark, Sanzo caught a quick glimpse of the bullet imbedded in the god's arm. It looked broken, as though the force of the bullet had shattered the bone. _So only _fatal_ shots don't work,_ Sanzo realized.

Goku took advantage of his opponent's moment of weakness, giving a loud cry as he brought his staff down on the god's head. There was a sickening _crack_. The god fell to the ground, the back of his skull caved in. Sanzo stared, feeling numb. The brat had more power behind his blows than he'd previously fought. Thinking back, he suddenly realized how _fortunate_ he, Gojyo, and Hakkai had been to go against the kid three-to-one.

_No way in hell..._

"Two down, one to go," Goku said smugly, not seeming perturbed by the killing of two men from his own side. He kept surprising Sanzo-- and the priest did _not_ like that.

"Hey," he growled. He opened his mouth to say more, but hesitated when Goku suddenly narrowed his eyes. Without quite understanding _how_ he knew the last god was behind him, Sanzo spun around, slamming the butt of his gun into the god's gut. The man gagged, stumbling back, and Goku moved forward in the same instant, driving his staff into the man with such force that it went completely through him.

"S'what you bastards get for calling me a traitor," the boy said snidely, freeing his weapon with a vicious tug. The god only gasped an incoherent response, falling to his knees, and then to his face. Blood pooled in the grass, and the residual smoke vanished.

Sanzo watched Goku make a face. The boy mumbled something about messy battles as he wiped the blood off his staff using the robes of the dead god at his feet. _Unbelievable,_ he thought, refusing to accept the idea that this cocky little brat was as strong as he was. Not strong enough to take on Sanzo's entire party, but had he only been fighting one of them, maybe even just two...

_We would have been dead,_ Sanzo realized. The confirmation unsettled him.

"Whew!" The boy grinned up at him, his weapon vanishing from sight. Sanzo kept his gun out. "Glad that's over. Oh, wow, it's morning already?"

There was no way this idiot was so strong. There was just no possible way... Sanzo shook his head, finally returning his gun to his robes. The aftermath of the fight combined with his lack of sleep finally caught up with him; Sanzo was quickly beginning to feel drained.

Too late he realized that their scuffle with the gods had attracted the unwanted attention he had hoped to avoid.

"Sanzo?" Hakkai's voice sounded genuinely amazed, as though he could sense Sanzo was both not alone and with unusual company. The blonde turned to face him, not at all startled to see Gojyo just behind the man.

Gojyo narrowed his eyes, striding forward. "Hey! You, kid--"

"I'm not a kid," Sanzo heard Goku snap from behind him. The boy's voice sounded suddenly distant; Sanzo heard pine needles rustling. Without looking he knew Goku was backing away.

"Forget him," the blonde found himself saying shortly. He rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing at the soreness he felt there. His knee ached again as well. Strange; in the midst of battle, he'd almost forgotten about his injury. "Let's go."

Gojyo growled in frustration. "What the hell? No way. I owe that goddamn brat a few good whacks--"

"I _said_, 'Let's go,' " Sanzo said irritably. Seeming miffed, Gojyo reluctantly stepped back toward Hakkai, shooting the boy behind Sanzo a dirty look. There was a sudden scrambling sound, and Sanzo knew Goku had run.

_Brat,_ he thought tiredly. "Coffee," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. They still stung a little. "Coffee. Then we're leaving. You're driving." The last sentence was thrown at Gojyo.

"What?! What the hell? Just because you didn't get any damn sleep stalking some creepy kid," Gojyo began, bristling.

"You," Sanzo cut in, his voice dangerously low. "Driving. Let's _go_." Without another sword he strode past his companions, back toward the inn. Behind him he heard Hakkai softly say something about humoring his whims. Gojyo snorted.

It wasn't until they were back in the inn and Sanzo was musing over a cup of coffee that he realized what he should have done-- and what he had to do now. He should have shot the boy when he had the chance, even if it might have missed. He should have tested the extent of Goku's abilities before the gods had come along, even at the risk of waking people.

Now he had to get the boy to come with them. He sure as hell wasn't going to stop the journey; that would be foolish on many levels. But if he ran into Goku again he was going to have to find some way to persuade the boy to come along with them. And if persuasion was going to involve Sanzo knocking the boy out cold and dragging him along with his hands and feet tied... well, at least the idea was appealing.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: mentioned Goku/Homura

Warnings: AU-ish, mild angst, language, original character

Notes: I apologize for not updating over the holidays as promised. My account was locked during that weekend, and by the time it was _un_locked, it was nearly halfway into the next week. So I decided to hold it off for this update. (And to think, it's not even a special chapter to make up for it. Sigh.) Belated happy holidays, and Happy New Year.

Also (and I don't often do this) for the Homura/Goku lovers out there, I have a reccomendation. Quite possibly the best depiction of the pairing I've ever come across, I give you _New Rebirth_ by chibiryu. For quick access, it's on my favorite's story list. Considering how few non-rapist!Homura examples of the coupling are out there, I was delighted by this particular rare gem, and I highly reccomend it to anyone who likes the pairing-- as well as anyone who does _not_ like it, simply because it is that good.

In any case, the usual. Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Sixteen_

He breathed a sigh of relief when the jeep fell out of sight. Swinging out from his hiding place, Goku hung precariously from a tree branch for a few moments before letting go. Luckily he had rocked his body forward, so instead of falling several feet to the ground he landed in the roof of the inn.

_Hope that's an attic under me, or someone's gonna be pissed,_ he thought absently, crouching in his place. He looked west to see if the jeep really had disappeared. When there was no further sign of Konzen's group he grinned and looked around, trying to find the best place to climb down to the ground.

It had been dumb luck that Gojyo and Hakkai had also found them. Goku wasn't scared of the red-haired jerk; of course not! That wasn't why he had run. No, he'd run because he wouldn't have known what to do if he had kicked their asses and taken the scripture he knew Homura wanted so badly.

And, a tiny part of him admitted, he would have been equally at a loss if _they_ would have somehow had the luck to beat him _again_. He had the distinct feeling Homura would have been less than pleased if Goku had somehow ended up killed-- and for some reason, a nasty feeling told him it wasn't just because it would mean Homura had lost a lover.

Goku shook his head. He refused to think about that right now. Half the reason he'd even left the tower was because he had been frustrated with Homura and needed some time away.

Peering over the edge of the building, Goku noticed a narrow balcony. There was only a slim chance he'd land on his mark, but it was also his best option at the moment. He took a deep breath, gripped the edge of the shingles, and swung himself over.

He landed safely.

A quick peek in the room he had landed outside of told him no one was renting it out. Breathing a sigh of relief, Goku smiled and swung his legs over the side of the railing. He sat on the edge, teetering for a few moments, and jumped the last two stories. He landed on his feet, and the impact sent a piercing shock through his legs. Goku hissed, nearly loosing his balance and toppling over. He managed to right himself, but the painful tingle in his legs made him decide that he was either _never_ going to do that again, or he'd have to work on jumping from fairly high places.

"Ow, ow, ow," Goku muttered, rubbing his thigh a few moments. Once the tingling had faded to a bearable level he started walking around the inn and into the streets.

People were beginning to crowd the streets. Goku blended in easily, probably looking like another person just passing through. At least, that was what he hoped. Causing a ruckus would only get him into trouble-- and he was sure he'd be in enough of _that_ once he returned to Konran tower.

_Then again, you don't _have_ to go back,_ a voice in the back of his mind whispered. The thought made Goku freeze, guilt striking him as soon as he realized what had just crossed his mind. He should not be thinking that, _could not_ think such a horrible thing. That would mean betraying Homura, turning his back on the man who had set him free-- on the man Goku trusted and cared for more than anyone in the world.

He did have to go back. Goku had to, _wanted_ to, no matter how much Konzen reminded him of the sun he had been waiting for.

_Besides,_ he reasoned with himself. _Konzen didn't save me. Homura did. I owe Homura enough... to at least go through with his plans like he asked me to._ After that it was going to be up in the air, and all Goku really knew was that his future had to involve Homura somehow. After all, he'd been around the man for three years already. He was sure he knew what he wanted, even if everyone else told him otherwise.

"Right," he muttered to himself. "Homura saved me. Not Sanzo. I..." He trailed off, blinking as he did a double take and realized what he had just called Konzen. _Sanzo?__ But..._

Then he remembered. That had been the name Hakkai had called him that morning. Frowning, Goku rubbed the back of his head. Homura had called the man Konzen, but it seemed Konzen's companions knew him as Sanzo. Was Homura confused? Possibly. Did he have the wrong person? That was highly unlikely, especially since Konzen-- Sanzo-- the blonde man had the scriptures Homura wanted.

_Great,_ Goku thought, crossing his arms and frowning down at his feet. _Now I'm even questioning him. Bad enough I left the tower, but--_

"Ow!"

The exclamation came from both him and another person. Someone had bumped into him, instantly cutting off Goku's train of thought. He only stumbled, but it seemed the person behind him had fallen.

Turning, Goku rubbed his now sore and possibly bruised shoulder. "Sorry," he muttered, even though he knew it wasn't his fault.

His apology was met with a blazing blue glare. "You should be," the girl on the ground snapped. Her response made Goku blink. Huffing, she picked herself up, making a face when she saw all her food had been scattered on the ground. "You," she said, pointing at Goku's face. "Help me pick this up and carry it home."

Her attitude made Goku's temper flare. "Why should I?"

"Because you were the one standing in the middle of the road like an idiot," she growled. "Move it, mister!" She snapped her fingers, crouching down to retrieve her paper bag.

"Geez," Goku muttered. Even if it had been half her fault, she did have a point-- and it wasn't like she was making him do all the work. Sighing, Goku knelt down, helping her gather whatever foods were salvageable after being dropped in the dirt-- oranges, apples, potatoes, and even a few canned goods.

The bag hadn't broken, but with the way she was shoving everything back in she was going to. Shaking his head, Goku reached out with his free hand, taking it from her. "You can't do that," he said, pulling out the carrots she had already put in. "If you just shove things in you're gonna have a harder time carrying them."

She scowled. "That's why you're helping."

"Look," Goku said, getting a bit impatient. "Just trust me." Balancing the food on his knees, he put the cans in first, followed by the vegetables, and then the fruits. "There. Less damage, more happy." When he looked up she was still glaring, but a spark of mirth made her eyes light up and her lips twitch. At last she broke out into laughter, shaking her head and waving her hand.

"All right, all right," she giggled. Suddenly her round face seemed more amiable. Goku relaxed. "You're kinda funny," she remarked. "And sweet. So I guess you're not so bad."

"Um... thanks." Goku blinked, not sure if it was really a compliment or not. He stood up, cradling the bag in his arms.

As they walked, with the girl a couple paces ahead of him, she turned her head to give him a curious glance. "I haven't seen you around here before," she said. "And you look about my age, so you'd think I'd have seen you working or something."

The comment caught Goku off guard. He did his best not to show his surprise and think of a plausible answer. "I'm traveling," Goku finally said.

The girl raised a skeptical eyebrow. "By yourself?"

"Sort of," he admitted. "I'm... on my way home. I stopped here to say hi to someone I know." That was true enough. He didn't have to mention that he'd sought Sanzo out on purpose, that it had taken days to not only get this far but to find him in the right town. As long as he didn't completely lie there was little chance she would be able to tell he wasn't being entirely truthful.

"Hm." The girl pursed her lips. "Anyone I know?"

"Doubt it. He's a traveler, too." She gave him another odd look, so Goku fumbled for a way to explain without giving the details. "That is... we just... we met a while ago, and right now we're traveling in different directions." Hopefully she wasn't the type to poke into things for every little detail.

"Mmhm," she said, eyeing him cynically. "There's not a lot of people traveling west nowadays, you know. Not with all the demons going berserk lately."

Goku winced. "Well, not all of them," he said tentatively. "You know... going crazy, I mean."

"Ha!" The girl snorted, reaching up to twirl a loose lock of her otherwise tightly-bound sand-colored hair. "Definitely all of them. And it's really pathetic, I say. It just _proves_ that no demon has any sense of self-control."

Bristling at the comment, Goku said hotly, "Oh, and you think humans are so much better?"

"Of course!" The girl turned to face him, stopping dead in her tracks. She spread her arms wide, her feet set apart in a firm stance. "Look at this town! All humans, all in control! None of _us_ have gone crazy, have we?" she demanded. "None of _us_ have gone on rampages. Look at me! Look at _you_! How can you _possibly_ think demons are any better?" She strode forward, pointing until her finger was inches away from his nose. Goku went briefly cross-eyed.

"We," she said in quieter tones, "are clearly superior. We have _not_ gone insane. _We_ are the ones suffering, _not_ the demons."

She had a point, even if it wasn't entirely valid or fair. Goku grimaced, taking a step back in attempt to get some breathing space. Humans _were_ suffering because of the recent effects unleashed on demons. Goku wasn't sure exactly who or what was causing it, not even why it was only affecting the demons in such a negative way.

While he tried to think of a way to explain his thoughts, she appeared to be appraising him. "Hey," she said suddenly, cutting through his thoughts. "What's your name anyway?"

He blinked, taken aback by the sudden turn in conversation. "Goku," he said before remembering something Homura had told him once. "But it's politer to give your name first, you know."

Her lips twitched into another smile. When she had been ranting at him her demeanor had been hard and angry, but the coldness softened when she smiled. "Smart-ass," she said, rocking back on her heels. She tugged on her hair. "I'm Mariko."

Nodding, Goku lifted the bag a little to remind her of their mission. "Where do you live? I'll help you with this, but I gotta get going after that." Embarrassingly enough, his statement ended with a loud protest from his stomach.

Mariko snorted. "How about you help drop that off, I make you lunch to pay you back, and then you go?"

Perking up at the mention of food, Goku nodded eagerly. "Sounds fair to me!"

"You're weird," Mariko said under her breath. It wasn't quite low enough for Goku to miss it. Before he could say anything she waved a hand and walked off. He was supposed to follow. Not one to argue against the promise of a free meal, Goku hurried after her.

------

The house was smaller than he'd expected. Goku stood in the doorway a few moments, looking around quickly. From the doorway he could see the tiny kitchen, a dining room, and a short hallway with two doors that likely led to bedrooms.

"Put that in the kitchen," Mariko instructed. "And take off your shoes; it's not like you live here!"

Frowning, Goku paused to do as instructed, kicking his boots off and nudging them against the wall before he walked to the kitchen. He set the bag down on the small table and the girl started removing the items.

"Good thing I didn't have to buy milk or bread today," she muttered, storing the fresh foods in the smallest refrigerator Goku had ever seen. He observed the house again, taking better note of its condition and furnishings.

"Um..." Mariko didn't look up, so Goku assumed she was listening. "You don't have to make me lunch, you know. I can just go--"

She cut him off by giving him a sharp look. Slamming a cabinet door shut, she strode up to him and poked rudely at his chest. "Look," she snapped. "We're not usually a charitable family, and quite frankly, if my father found out I had even _offered_ to feed you he would have my ass." Goku yelped as she poked him again, this time more viciously, and he shoved her hand away. She didn't back down. "I offered because you're a hell of a lot more decent than most men in this town... hell, most _women_. And I find you a little interesting, even if you are close-minded and an idiot."

Goku blinked, letting her words sink in as she turned around and grabbed one of the fresh tomatoes and a knife. Then he frowned, his voice indignant as he spoke. "You're calling _me_ close-minded?"

"At least you didn't deny you're an idiot," she muttered.

"I'm not that, either!"

"Whatever. Since you're just standing there, go into that pantry and get the loaf of bread that's already been cut," she ordered, pointing to her left.

Sighing, feeling frustrated and somehow defeated, Goku reluctantly did as she told him. Honestly, if he knew she wasn't going to feed him he wouldn't have done a single thing she had told him to do. Goku's stomach growled and he winced, hoping Mariko didn't hear it. When he returned with the bread she was eyeing him, her lips twitching in amusement again.

Annoyed, Goku handed her the bread.This timeshe kept her mouth shut and didn't make a remark, pulling the bread from its plastic wrapping and cutting a couple of slices.

"No meat for you," Mariko said simply, putting together a tomato-and-lettuce sandwich. "Father watches those portions the most, and if even a thin slice if anything is gone, he'll know."

It wouldn't sustain him long, especially not with his appetite, but Goku was eager for just about anything by now. Training with Zenon had helped him curb his appetite for certain periods of time, but it was still murder for him to go a day without food. To Mariko's credit, she hadcut the bread slices thick, and she had used half of a rather large tomato. Goku nodded his thanks and bit hungrily into the sandwich.

Mariko snorted at his behavior, leaning against the counter and picking up the leftover portion of the tomato. She took a generous mouthful, chewing almost thoughtfully as Goku polished off his sandwich fairly quickly.

"Thanks," he said when it was gone. It had settled the noises in the pit of his stomach, and for that he was more than grateful. "I gotta be going now. Bye."

Mariko shrugged, as though his hasty retreat were normal to her. "All right. Shame I won't be able to see you around again." She took another bite, getting some of the sticky juices on her chin.

"Um... yeah," Goku said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he made his way to the front door. He actually wouldn't mind if he _didn't_ see her again. Most women he'd met had been mild-mannered, so her blunt, boyish attitude put him off.

Once he had jammed his feet back into his boots, Goku looked up to see the girl still watching him. She was still eating the tomato and had to lower her eyes a moment to lick the dripping juices off her hand.

Goku stopped, staring at her for a long moment. He used the wall to support him as he got to his feet, but instead of leaving he walked right back to the kitchen.

Mariko looked up, but she was scowling. "I thought I told you; you can't wear your shoes in here! This isn't your house," she snapped.

Ignoring her rudeness, Goku leaned in to get a closer look at her eyes. They were cornflower blue, dark with annoyance at the moment, but still the right color. Goku drew back a little, circling around her. Mariko was growing noticeably uncomfortable as she shifted from foot to foot.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded.

_Her hair and eyes..._ Goku had a bad feeling, not wanting to do what he was about to, but he also knew he'd regret it more if he didn't. "Do you take after your mom?"

Mariko took a step back, scowling. "I swear, if you're hitting on me--"

"I'm not," Goku assured her hastily. "Believe me, I'm not. I don't go for--"

"What _do_ you go for, then?" she sneered. Goku realized a little too late that she was probably used to boys telling her that they didn't find her their "type." He groaned, pressing the heel of his hand into one of his eyes. Why did he always have to encounter the more difficult people?

"Not you," he finally said. "Not... girls."

She narrowed her eyes, looking doubtful, but she finally shrugged, seeming to relax a little. "Better that than wanting to grope me, I suppose," she said off-handedly. "Why do you ask about my mom?"

"Well..." Goku lowered his hand, wondering how much he should reveal. It occurred to him that what he knew wasn't much, but still... "I'm helping someone look for a friend of theirs," he finally said. "And he asked me to look for girls that looked like you... y'know, blonde hair, blue eyes. I guess he's lookin' for an ancestor or something."

Mariko arched an eyebrow. "I do look like my mom," she said slowly. "But if he's looking for her, Mom's dead. No one on her side of the family is alive anymore." She smiled thinly. "I can give you a list of names all the way back to my great-great grandmother, though."

"That'd be good," Goku agreed, missing the subtle sarcasm laced in her words. Mariko rolled her eyes but rattled off a few names. Goku doubted he would remember all of them, but at least he could say he'd done his job.

"Anything else I can do for you?" Mariko asked heavily.

Shaking his head, Goku backed out of the kitchen. "No. That's good. Thanks," he said, aware he sounded too cheerful. He gave the girl a final wave and hurried out the front door. He heard her curse loudly when he slammed it too hard. He had only made it a few yards away when a sudden shout stopped him.

"Goku!" Startled, he turned back to see Mariko leaning out the window, waving him back. Curious, he started back. She waited until he was within talking distance before she spoke again. "Maybe your friend is looking for an item-- like maybe a precious possession or something."

Goku blinked. He hadn't thought of that, partially because Homura didn't strike him as the type to be so sentimental over even an heirloom piece. The only material object Homura seemed attached to was his cape; it was the only piece of clothing he didn't have a replacement or extra of.

Still, it was a possibility. He shrugged. "Maybe."

"If that's the case, there's a house my mother's side of the family used to have," Mariko said, smirking. "It's old, run-down, and nobody would ever think about living there anymore... and I'm pretty damn sure anything valuable has been taken out."

Goku nodded indulgingly, wishing she would get to the point. As though reading his mind, she continued, "Anyway, if that's what he wants it's in the next town south-east of here." She pointed. "Actually, it was set quite a ways from the actual town... but if I remember right, there's a road that leads there. If there hasn't been an avalanche, it should still be there."

Somehow knowing this only made him even more uncomfortable. It was almost as though having possession of this knowledge was only going to help Homura find this person or thing-- and thus have Homura taken away from him.

Still, he didn't want to seem ungrateful. After all, he _had_ been the one to ask for any information she could give him. Goku managed a weak smile. "Okay. Thanks."

Mariko rolled her eyes. "If I knew you were going to act so upset about it, I wouldn't have told you. Big baby," she grumbled, drawing back inside and sliding the window shut before Goku could protest.

Sighing, Goku shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. _Might as well go home, I guess..._ Despite the sinking feeling in his gut that told him things were only going to get worse if he went back, Goku turned and started down the road again.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: R

Pairings: Homura/Goku, past Homura/Rinrei

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, yaoi, lime

Notes: And thus begins the angstfest. You all will know what I mean by the end.

Also, I am contemplating whether or not I should skip updating on the 22nd. I have SATs that weekend, and while it's only on one day, the last time I found myself mentally exhausted. Updating when I'm in that mode... even such a simple thing makes me cringe. ButI'll try to come to a decision by the next update.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Seventeen_

He could tell who it was by the footsteps. They were quiet, like someone who had practiced stealth, but the art hadn't been perfected. He could hear the dirt and gravel shifting every so often.

So when Goku tried to sneak in through the front door, Zenon delivered a good solid punch to the boy's head.

"_Ow_" Goku cried, falling to his knees and clutching his head. He hissed in pain, rubbing his skull. Rolling his eyes, Zenon grabbed the boy's collar and jerked him back to his feet.

"You," he growled, "have missed nearly two weeks of practice. Two. Goddamn. _Weeks_. Where the _fuck_ have you been?!"

"Obviously not here," Goku retorted. That earned him another sharp-knuckled whack to the head.

Scoffing, Zenon folded his arms over his chest. "You brat," he said in disgust. "You probably got lazy and forgot half the things I taught you by now." It was clearly an exaggeration, but Zenon felt he head every right to poke at the boy. No one, absolutely _no one_ skipped out on his practice sessions and got away with it. It had already happened once before; hadn't the idiot learned anything from that?

_Clearly not,_ he thought in annoyance. In reality, he kid was lucky Zenon wasn't as rough with him as he could be. If Goku thought _his_ training was going to be hell... well, one could say that Zenon was highly looking forward to watching that week's lessons with Shien.

"Well, it's still noon," he said while starting toward the training room. "So let's get to it."

"Wait."

The seriousness in the boy's voice made Zenon go completely still. He recognized that tone. He knew it all too well, in fact. It was the tone that said Goku was going to get him involved with something highly stupid-- and likely including Homura in some way, shape, or form.

Without turning, Zenon spoke curtly. "Whatever it is, the answer's no."

"Zenon... please."

Now he cringed. Zenon knew he was tough, _knew_ he was more than capable of resisting Goku's childish whims. He could ignore the whining, could put up with it longer and better than his other companions. The reason for that was because while his temper was short he actually had a high tolerance when it came to children. Even though Goku was nearly sixteen years old, Zenon still saw him as a child.

However, the voice he'd just used had been closer to that of an adult. Goku was going to ask a huge favor of him, and Zenon was going to have a hell of a hard time turning him down.

He sighed heavily, turning just enough so he could see Goku from the corner of his eye. "If it involves Homura in any way, I seriously _don't_ want to get mixed up in it."

"I know," Goku said quietly. "But it's really important, Zenon... and you gotta promise you'll keep it a secret. You can't tell anyone."

Zenon's brow twitched. "If it involves our mission, I'm going to," he warned the boy.

"I..." Goku trailed off hesitantly. "I'm not sure if it does."

_He found it._

Zenon wasn't sure how he knew without asking; he just _did_. Goku was fidgeting, unusually uncomfortable, and that was hardly ever a good sign. The kid usually took to people, was normally comfortable around just about anyone. Even strangers. Hell, Zenon was positive Goku was _more_ than relaxed around him.

That only meant that it was a huge secret, that it was something Goku seriously wanted to keep quiet about, and that he clearly had to tell _someone_ or else he was going to explode. Zenon knew from several centuries of experience that emotional eruptions were one of the ugliest scenes one could witness.

"Where?" he asked heavily.

Goku didn't seem surprised that he already knew what it was about. He bit his lower lip, his eyebrows drawn together in thought. "Well... if what Mariko told me was right--"

"Mariko?" Zenon arched an eyebrow, feeling a smirk tug his lips despite the seriousness of the conversation.

"Shut up," Goku said irritably. "If what she told me was right, there's a house that was southeast to a town I visited... so... it'd be southwest from here."

Zenon stared at the boy. If what he knew about geography was correct, even just a little bit, what Goku was basically saying was that he had gone west. But why west? They had already been through some of that area, so there was nothing for them to go back to. The only things west were Houtou Castle and the party traveling there.

_In other words, Homura was right,_ he thought grimly. This did not bode well for their future plans.

"So why can't I tell Homura?" he asked. Zenon had a feeling it had something to do with Goku's clinginess toward the man; he tended to follow Homura like a lost puppy at times, as though the man were going to lead him to salvation.

"Just... don't," Goku finally said. "I'll tell him. I really will," he promised when Zenon gave him a skeptical look. "Just not yet. I need..." He trailed off.

"You need to think about it," Zenon guessed.

Goku nodded. "Something like that. Yeah."

_Damn it,_ Zenon thought irritably, reaching up to grind a knuckle into his temple. There were definitely more downsides in agreeing to keep quiet, but there was that damned voice in him telling him that, hey, he had Goku's trust. The kid _was_ turning to him for help, even if the reasons were stupid and childish.

He sighed. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll keep your damn secret. But if you don't tell him soon, I will."

"I'll tell him," Goku said hastily. "Really! Just promise you'll keep quiet for a little while."

He had the sinking feeling this was only going to end up in disaster. Even so, Zenon simply nodded and gave the boy a good-natured smack upside the head. "Yeah, yeah. I promise."

"Promise what?"

Homura's voice startled them both; Goku actually yelped and took a step backward. Rolling his eyes, Zenon turned to look at their leader. A quick glance told him enough; Homura hadn't heard the entire conversation.

"Well, that's just nosy," Zenon said flippantly, shifting his weight to his other foot. "How unlike you, O Conservative Leader."

Homura seemed to be in a good mood; he chuckled softly at Zenon's sarcastic tone. "I will have to watch myself from now on," he said, smirking. "It seems I am acquiring some bad habits."

"Hm. I wonder who from?" Zenon shot Goku a sideways glance.

It took the boy a few moments to put the pieces together. When he did he growled. "It's not _my_ fault if Homura picks up my habits!"

Zenon snorted; the brat had just admitted he tended to be sneaky without realizing it. Typical. He give Goku a good-natured but still rough noogie on the head, causing the boy to whine in protest. It was times like this Zenon really felt Goku was like a sort of brother to him-- or maybe even the son he had lost.

No. He wasn't going to think about it. It was bad enough Homura was dragging his past around with him. It was just as bad that Shien walked about constantly berating himself, even if he didn't realize it. _Someone_ had to keep a straight head in this group, and while Goku didn't have a past to fret over he was _not_ Zenon's first choice when it came to keeping a sense of composure in the group.

"Zenon." He paused in tormenting Goku long enough to look up; unfortunately, that gave Goku the chance to escape. Before Zenon could grab the boy again Homura continued. "I realize he has a lot to make up as far as his lessons go, but today he will be starting with me."

Zenon studied Homura's expression for a few moments. His appearance was calm, which didn't mean much, but he seemed more at ease now than he had been for the past few days. It seemed he really had been worried about Goku, despite his flippant attitude.

Then again, it _was_ Homura. The man held fast to the few friends he had.

Shrugging, Zenon managed to grab Goku by the collar before the boy could try sneaking out. "What the hell. Nothing I can do about it," he said simply, giving Goku a rough push toward Homura.

"Ack!" Goku nearly tripped on his face; he whirled to glare at Homura. "Watch it, you bastard!"

"_You_ watch your mouth," he returned crossly. "You already have hell to face when I get to pound you into the ground."

Goku stomped his foot, childishly indignant. "You don't train me like that! That's Homura's job!"

"Who said it was training?" Zenon growled. "I'm going to kick your little ass for skipping out on _two weeks_ of practice!"

While Goku struggled to think of anything he could say to that, Homura shook his head and smirked. "You two will never cease to amuse me," he said before nodding to Zenon and walking off. "Come, Son Goku."

The brunette grimaced, as though the utterance of his name left a bad taste in his mouth. He shot Zenon a final look that the man could only interpret as a reminder of his promise to keep quiet. Zenon waved at him to go along; he wouldn't say anything for the time being. Seeming relieved, Goku finally hurried after Homura.

Maybe he was relieved, but Zenon sure as hell wasn't. He groaned once they were out of earshot, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the nearest wall. Things were already tense enough between Homura and Goku, even if Zenon didn't know exactly why or _how_ tense.

Put simply, this stunt Goku was pulling was not going to end well. Zenon could only hope that it wouldn't bring things crashing down around them, because then he'd damn well have to kill the kid.

No matter how much he had taken to the boy, he would never forgive him if he ruined their chances of starting over in the new world like they deserved to.

------

The boy didn't seem tense. In fact, there was a considerable lack of tension that Homura decided had both to do with his taking time away from his companions and the boy's meeting Genjo Sanzo.

He knew that was where Goku had disappeared to the other day. His absence had admittedly startled Homura, and when he didn't turn up by morning Homura had realized what had happened. Likely a combination of encountering the man and getting turned down for the night had made Goku rebelliously determined to find Sanzo.

Homura wasn't angry, nor was he disappointed. It had been expected, really. What else could Goku do once he found his sun? Homura wasn't too worried that Goku would betray them, not after all they had been through. No, betrayal was most likely far from the boy's mind. What had compelled him to go on his brief little journey had been mere (but obviously urgent) curiosity.

However, despite the lack of tension and Homura's belief that Goku wouldn't betray him, something was clearly bothering his lover. Goku kept fidgeting, rubbing the back of his neck and scuffing his toe against the floor. His gaze would constantly flicker to and away from Homura, though he tried to pretend other things in the room interested him.

In fact, it was beginning to become annoying.

Homura decided to take the boy's mind off his current thoughts. "Well?"

Goku blinked, finally looking him in the eye for longer than a few seconds. "Well what?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Smirking, Homura leaned against the wall of the elevator. "How was your training?"

Now Goku looked completely baffled. With his childish looks it added a cuteness to his features that was appealing in a way that should have made Homura feel as though he were a pedophile, despite Goku's actual age.

"What training?"

The elevator stopped, the doors sliding open with a soft _ding_. Homura stepped out and into the room; it was vast and sturdy, bearing few pillars for one to knock one's opponent into during a fight. He heard Goku scramble after him.

"I know you went west," he said simply, glancing back at the boy. Goku flinched. "So I sent you a little gift to ensure your skills would not rust."

"Huh?" Goku shook his head. "I didn't get any gift, Homura."

"I see." Homura stopped in the center of the room before turning to face his pupil. It was too difficult to keep a straight face, so he allowed his lips to curve into a knowing smirk again. "I suppose they were too easy for you and Konzen to deal with, then."

Goku blinked, suddenly looking thoughtful. Within seconds the implications of what Homura had done seemed to sink in; the surprise transforming Goku's face was clear.

"_You_ sent them after me?" the boy squawked. "Homura! You told them they could kill me, you ba--"

Homura calmly covered the boy's mouth before the expletive could be finished. "Ah, so you _did_ get my gift," he said, amused. "I certainly hope you did not let Konzen do all the work for you."

With a muffled protest Goku wrenched himself away. "I didn't," he protested. "I kicked their asses, no problem! But you--"

"I see," Homura interrupted loudly, lifting his eyes toward the ceiling in mock thought. "So even when they were at their best, you defeated them easily."

"Well, yeah..." Goku hesitated, thinking over their conversation. Understanding finally lit his eyes. "Oh..."

Smirking, Homura remarked, "Your anger faded rather quickly."

"Shut up," Goku grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. He seemed more at ease now, no longer angry with his lover. "I thought you'd be mad if you knew I went to... see him," he finally added slowly. "I mean... not that I'm gonna leave you guys or anything, but--"

Homura shook his head, pressing two fingers against the boy's mouth to silence him. Looking him directly in the eyes, he said calmly, "I understand." He drew his hand back. "After living with you for three years, I know you would not betray me so easily."

A long sigh escaped the boy's lips. He gave Homura a smile that told the man he had dissipated most of the boy's worries. There was still something Goku was hiding, but Homura couldn't begin to guess what it was. He decided it probably wasn't important. If it was he would find out soon enough.

There were more important things for them to do right then, anyhow. Without speaking Homura reached out, taking Goku's wrists firmly in his hands. The boy glanced down at his hands, and then gave him a questioning look.

"We are going to train," Homura replied to the silent inquiry. He closed his eyes briefly, an incantation rising from the depths of his memory. Moments later Goku's hands twitched in fear, as though he knew what was coming. Perhaps he did.

Homura loosened his grip as cool metal began to form beneath his palms. Goku's arms suddenly grew heavy as the god added weight to the solidifying shackles. A small whimper reached his ears, one he recognized as Goku's.

All the more the reason they had to do this. Homura finally let go, taking a step back and opening his eyes. Goku wasn't looking at him anymore, his wide golden eyes fixed on his shackles in a mixture of horror and terror. Homura had a good guess as to how the boy felt right then; he was probably remembering the cave he had been trapped in for so many years, feeling the physical weight of the shackles, similar to those that had kept him enclosed in Gogyo mountain for centuries. If he was growing claustrophobic, that wouldn't startle Homura at all.

He had to say the boy's full name twice to get his attention. "Listen to me," he said firmly. "I realize you severely dislike this--"

"Dislike?" Goku interrupted in a choked voice. "I _hate_ it! Homura, why--"

"Hush." He must have hit the right note, because Goku promptly shut his mouth, his lips thinning to white lines. "Added weight is the best way we can improve your strength rapidly from here on in."

Goku shuddered, flexing his arms as though testing the shackles' weight. "Isn't there another way?"

"We do not have time for our other options, unfortunately," Homura murmured. At Goku's perplexed expression he immediately went back on subject. "I want you to train with Shien and Zenon wearing those as well."

"Gods..."

Homura sighed, fleetingly wondering if there was anything he could say to put his pupil at ease. Goku was going to have to learn to get through things on his own, but that didn't mean Homura couldn't encourage him in some way. He knew what it was like to be completely alone, without anyone at all willing to help you. Goku did not deserve to go through that at all.

Then it occurred to him. He took a step backward, observing his own restraints before he returned his gaze back to the boy.

"It feels odd, does it not?" he asked. "As though your powers are being trapped within you, perhaps."

Goku clenched his fists, mumbling something that sounded similar to an agreement. Even so, Homura knew that wasn't all of what was bothering him.

"Or perhaps," he continued, "it makes you feel _physically_ trapped. Even though you are free to move about, the chains make you think otherwise."

Raising his head, Goku finally gave a mute nod. He tried to speak a couple times, but each time had to clear his throat before any words could come out. "Is... that how you feel with those on?" He stared at Homura's shackles, slowly lowering his arms. "Homura... please take them off."

He sighed. "I already told you. You have to--"

"Not mine," Goku cut in. "Take yours off."

Startled, it was Homura's turn to stare. Yes, they'd had a conversation about why he couldn't remove his chains before, that the heavens wouldn't allow it, but Goku had never requested he actually remove them. Despite the fact he was rebelling against Heaven, Homura had his reasons as to why he wouldn't take them off. One was that if he did without their consent they would instantly realize something was wrong and take action to stop their plans. Another was that after hundreds of years wearing them, from childhood to adulthood, Homura was simply used to them. The final was that...

"No," he said once he'd regained his composure. "You are not ready for that."

Goku scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"You're not ready," Homura repeated, drawing his sword out. Without another word he lunged at the boy, swinging. He purposefully gave Goku enough room to duck, allowed the boy to hurriedly call forth his weapon. Homura straightened up and turned to face his pupil again, weapon held ready. Goku had his staff clutched in both hands.

Homura attacked again.

------

The door practically slammed open as the boy stumbled into the room. More amused than concerned, Homura followed him and closed the door behind them. Goku practically collapsed to the bed, groaning.

"Owww," he whined. "What's wrong with you?"

Arching an eyebrow, Homura strode over and sat down on the edge of the bed beside the boy. "Wrong with me?" he repeated, placing his hands over the boy's arms.

"Yeah," Goku grumbled. "You were a hell of a lot harder on me than usual. My arms hurt..."

Homura murmured something wordlessly to show he was listening. He was far more focused on removing the shackles, and when they disappeared Goku's arms went completely limp. Apparently he hadn't been kidding when he'd complained of an unusual amount of pain there.

"Perhaps I did work you too hard," Homura said, his voice a little sympathetic.

"Damn right you did. I shoulders ache," the brunette continued to complain. "And my legs. And my back. And my feet. And I can't feel my fingers."

Homura snorted, sure by now that the boy was exaggerating. "It could not have been that bad."

"Fight yourself and find out," Goku answered crossly.

Still more amused than anything, Homura scooted closer to his lover's torso, placing his hands on Goku's shoulders and kneading his fingers into the muscle there. Goku hissed, tensing momentarily before he obediently went lax beneath Homura's touch.

"My apologies." He worked his fingers against Goku's neck, knowing that was where the boy was going to be the most sore. "Shall I make it up to you?" he asked teasingly, knowing full well the answer Goku was going to give to that.

Sure enough Goku opened his eyes, giving the man a lopsided grin. "Dunno. Think we can have sex?"

"If that is what you want."

"Hell, yeah!" Goku tried to sit up, but the pressure Homura applied to his shoulders was enough to keep him down. Even so his grin broadened. "You really owe me after what happened last time. Don't you dare get moody on me again!"

"Perhaps we should talk less, in that case," Homura retorted, mildly stung at what the boy was implying. He decided to shrug it off; Goku did have a valid reason to be upset with him. He was, after all, still a teenager.

"Right," Goku agreed eagerly, squirming away from Homura's touch and sitting up, hastily pulling his sweaty shirt over his head. "Less talkin', more screwin'. I gotcha."

_Endearing, if a bit crude,_ Homura decided, leaning over to give the boy a chaste kiss. Goku didn't seem ready to play that game, however, because he quickly tangled his fingers in the man's hair, biting at his lower lip. Obediently opening his mouth, Homura noted with some amusement that Goku seemed eager to be in control.

In fact, the boy was just plain eager, already tugging at Homura's shirt, then pushing impatiently at his cape. Homura had to practically pry the boy off so he could safely do that himself, ignoring Goku's annoyed look when he only unsnapped one shackle to remove his shirt before quickly reattaching it.

"Patience, Son Goku," he chided when Goku made a rude noise in attempt to prod Homura along faster.

Goku practically tackled the man back down to the bed, nipping fervently at Homura's neck. "Patience is for people who've gotten laid," he growled. "All clothes. Off. Now."

_Endearing, crude, and impatient,_ Homura thought, smirking as he reached down to unbutton the boy's pants. Really, it was no wonder he was attracted to him. Even though he was practically the polar opposite of Homura's first love, he found him appealing.

Or perhaps it was _because_ Goku was practically the polar opposite of his first love that Homura allowed himself to find the boy desirable.

"Homura, are you even paying attention?"

Always quick to save himself, Homura shot the boy an innocent look as he unzipped his pants. "Have you not heard of taking your time?" he teased lightly.

Shaking his head, Goku urgently began removing the last of his lover's clothes. It was then, during a brief moment when Homura allowed his eyes to lapse shut, despite the feel of rough hands upon him, that the name slipped into his mind.

_Rinrei..._


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: R

Pairings: Homura/Goku, Homura/Rinrei

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, shounen ai, het, strong language

Notes: Updates will continued as originally planned, no matter what SATs and such come up. If no more interruptions happen, the fic in its entirety will be finished and postedby mid-June.

Thanks for the reviews. Feedback and constructive criticism is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Eighteen_

"I can't _believe_ you!"

It was one of the rare times Homura had honestly not seen that coming. He blinked, eyeing his lover in honest perplexity. From his peripheral vision he saw Zenon raise an eyebrow. He didn't seem to know what was going on any more than Homura did. Glancing quickly sideways, he saw that Shien didn't, either.

"All right," he finally said. "Neither can I. Now what are you angry about?"

The flash in Goku's eyes gave him a hint. It was the same glint he'd catch either when the boy was overreacting to something (which was more often than not) or when he had a serious, justifiable reason to be furious.

Homura didn't have a good feeling about this one.

Amazingly enough, Goku managed to keep a hold of his composure, even if it was somewhat shaky. _He's learning patience. Good_, thought Homura.

"We're lovers, right?" Goku demanded.

Homura heard Zenon shift his weight. Seeming to realize the seriousness of the looming conversation, Shien said quietly, "Perhaps we should leave."

Without taking his eyes off the boy, Homura waved his hand dismissively at the man. It wasn't a signal to get out, but one to drop it. If it was a private conversation Goku needed, the boy could have sought him out elsewhere, at another time. "Yes," he said. "I believe that is obvious enough."

Goku ignored the deadpan remark. "Right. But we're not _casual_ lovers, are we?" Though he was the one playing the Twenty Questions game, Goku seemed to be growing more agitated by the second. His voice was unusually short and clipped.

That did not bode well. Homura answered indulgingly. "No."

"So that makes us _boyfriends_, doesn't it?"

Zenon seemed to become more uncomfortable at the same rate Goku was growing angrier. He turned, leaning against the wall and pretending to find his gun more interesting than the conversation. His actions were curious, but Homura still said nothing. He still couldn't see where the conversation was going, and the bad feeling was only growing worse. He briefly considered leaving before things erupted with the inevitable argument. Pride as well as curiosity kept him sitting where he was. "If that is what you want to call it, yes."

"Good." Goku's eyes were smoldering, the gold nearly burnt bronze in his rage. "So maybe you'd like to tell me, Homura," he said tightly. "When I was sucking you off yesterday, why the _hell_ did you say 'Rinrei?!' "

Zenon's discomfort was automatically contagious. Homura shifted in his seat, too startled to reply right away. Even though he hated himself for it, he couldn't keep the boy's gaze and had to glance off to the side.

_So he heard,_ was all he could think. He remembered whispering the name, but it had been low enough, soft so that he had hoped Goku hadn't heard it. The boy hadn't hesitated in what he was doing, and Homura hadn't found it strange that he was oddly quiet as they fell asleep. He had dismissed it as Goku being exhausted.

Sometimes he hated the way he tried to hide from things, especially from himself.

At last he said softly, "Shall we take this elsewhere?"

"No," Goku said stubbornly. "I don't care if they hear it." When Homura looked back at him he saw the boy giving his two companions a withering look. "They know about her anyway. Nobody wanted to tell me anything." His voice was rising in pitch. "Nobody tells me anything around here! You guys are the one that rescued me and took me in, and _you don't want me to be a part of this group!_"

His accusation made Homura inwardly flinch. Luckily, he had dealt with harsh situations in the past five hundred years, so it wasn't too difficult for him to superficially control his expressions.

Zenon wasn't quite as composed. "Hey," he heard the man growl as he took a step forward. "Don't you start--"

Homura held up a hand, effectively silencing the man. He turned his gaze back to Goku, speaking quietly. "I'm sorry you feel that way. However--"

"No," Goku cut in, his fists clenched. "Shut up. Just shut up!" Again Homura was taken aback, and this time he couldn't hide his startled look. Unfortunately, Goku noticed, and Homura recognized the glimmer of satisfaction in the boy's eyes. "I'm not finished."

It didn't take long for him to recover. "Finish, then," Homura said.

Goku paused to take a deep breath. It seemed to calm him down a little; his arms weren't shaking anymore. However, when he spoke it was filled with the same anger colored with bitterness. "When I went into town," the boy said slowly, appearing to struggle with his words. "I saw Konzen. But I didn't leave. I found this girl."

Homura immediately looked at Zenon. The man didn't look back; he stepped backward a little, leaning against the wall behind them and suddenly finding the floor interesting. Biting back a sigh, Homura turned his attention back to Goku. _So that is what they were talking about..._

"Her name's Mariko," Goku continued, his voice growing tighter with each word. "She has the hair and eyes. She got it from her mother's side." He took another steadying breath. This time it was Goku who couldn't look at Homura; the boy had lowered his eyes to Homura's feet instead. "The stupid place is southwest from here. Between cliffs. I don't know how far. It's been abandoned. Mariko lives northwest from it."

It was the clue he'd been searching for. Homura's eyes widened slightly. He had expected the family to be difficult to find, had known that Rinrei had most likely died many years ago. There wasn't much he could do; it wasn't like he could go after her.

What Homura really wanted to do was to find her home, her resting place, and pay his respects. After all he had put her through, it was the least he could do for her.

He started to rise, but Goku wasn't finished. "She gave me a list of names." The boy's fists were clenched at his sides. "Of women in her mother's side of the family. Rinrei was one of them." Goku practically spat out the last sentence, as though he hated the mere thought of her.

All Homura could realize was that there was no doubt this was the place. He got to his feet, striding forward and grasping Goku by the shoulders. Without waiting for the boy to raise his head to look at him, Homura murmured, "Thank you."

Ignoring Goku's protests he let go of the boy and strode past him. He could deal with their problems later. Goku could wait; he was a heretic, would live practically forever. They didn't have forever, but they had enough time to resolve things later. That and he knew it would be best if he gave the boy time to cool off.

But Rinrei was dead, and Homura was long overdue to pay his respects.

------

He couldn't believe Homura had just left. Goku found himself staring after the man, stupidly wondering if what had just occurred was a dream.

He could feel his hands shaking. There was sweat dampening his palms, making his fingers slick against each other. No doubt he was wide awake, not dreaming-- and absolutely livid.

"Bastard," he heard someone whisper. It took a moment to realize that his voice was choked, gritty and hot. "That... bastard..."

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him. He felt Zenon put a hand on his shoulder, knew it was Zenon because Shien would never touch him like that. The man gave him a firm squeeze. "Hey. Kid. Maybe we should talk."

"Yeah," Goku said thickly, tearing his shoulder away from Zenon. "Yeah. Let's talk. Okay? Let's talk about how right I am. Let's talk about how none of you guys tried to deny what I said! You really _don't_ want me to be a part of this group!" He took a deep breath, shuddering from sheer overwhelming anger. "Let's talk about _some people_ don't even have the decency to _apologize_ after saying someone else's name during sex!"

He yelped as Zenon smacked him upside the head. "I don't want to hear about that," the man said irritably. "Maybe we ought to take a walk elsewhere."

Goku saw Shien nod as though understanding before he left. Shuddering, Goku took a step back. He knew he was being childish when he said, "I don't want to," but at the moment he didn't care.

Apparently, neither did Zenon. "Well, that's just too fuckin' bad for you, then." With that he grabbed Goku's arm in a tight hold, dragging the boy out despite his protests. Goku struggled to wrestle his arm free but had little luck.

He didn't want to talk about it. For all that was holy, for the sake of his emotionally raw state right then, the _last_ thing Goku wanted to do was talk about anything. Right then he just wanted to hit a few walls, kick something, scream obscenities that would put Zenon to shame. He wanted to punch Homura in the face, he was so angry.

But he did _not_ want to talk.

Once they reached the stairs Zenon's grip on the boy loosened. Goku happily wrenched his arm free, shoving his hands in his pockets. It was a good move; he was wary that if he didn't do something with them he might try to start a fight with Zenon. While Goku knew he was good, he also knew he was _not_ good enough to beat the man in a fist-fight.

At last the man spoke. "You really shouldn't have made such a scene, you know." There was a metallic click that followed his words. Goku made a face when he smelled burning tobacco, but he said nothing about it. "That was really stupid."

"Yeah. Excuse me for being stupid," Goku muttered.

"You're excused." Goku shot the man a withering glare, but Zenon pretended not to notice. "At least you did well enough to tell him about the place you found."

"I shouldn't have," Goku said bitterly. "I should have punched his face in first."

Zenon snorted. "You haven't been able to land a hit on him once since he let you out of that cave."

The reminder of his prison made Goku shudder. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to shut his eyes as well. The last thing he needed was to trip down the stairs. "Maybe he shouldn't have."

Zenon stopped, turning to look at him. "Shouldn't have let you out?"

Nodding, Goku stopped as well. He clenched his eyes shut, the words ricocheting in his head. _He shouldn't have let me out, he should have left me there..._ Tremors coursed through his body. _I shouldn't have said yes... why didn't I wait for my Sun? Homura doesn't really want me, the lying bastard!_

This time he was unable to resist the urge to punch something; he drew a balled fist out and slammed it into the nearest wall. Paint chipped off; plaster cracking to reveal the stone beneath it.

"He shouldn't have freed me," Goku growled. "Not if he's going to act like such a selfish jerk. _Gods,_ I hate him so much right now!" He punctuated his exclamation with another solid punch. His knuckles hurt, and if he continued he would probably break his hand.

Unfortunately, Goku was past the point of caring. A small cry worked its way out of his throat as he drew his hand back again, beating the wall with both fists. Even as his knuckles scraped, blood starting to stain his hands, he didn't stop. Strangely enough, Zenon didn't try to stop him, either. The man stood quietly behind him, seeming content to let the boy take his anger out on an inanimate object. Considering who was with him, it was better for Goku to take his anger out on an inanimate object rather than an animate one.

At least he wasn't crying. That was the only thing he could be grateful for, Goku realized as he finally ceased his physical venting before slumping to the floor. His fingers tensed, his fists pressed into the wall as he struggled to choke down frustrated cries. His face felt hot, his hands slick and sticky with blood. Clenching his stinging eyes shut, Goku let out a short, angry scream that hurt his throat.

He didn't feel any better. Instead he felt worse, and on top of his tangled emotions his hand ached and his throat felt raw.

"You done?" he heard Zenon ask once his breathing became noticeably less ragged. Goku opted not to answer, still shuddering in anger. "Good. Because I have something to say, too."

Voice gritty, Goku practically spat out, "I don't wanna hear it."

"Tough shit." Goku yelped as Zenon grabbed a handful of his long hair, tugging until Goku looked back at him. His visible eye was narrow, his brow creased in something akin to annoyance. "Our loyalties lie with Homura. Mine, Shien's, and yours, whether you like it or not. He's done more good than harm to you, so quit being such a baby and get over it."

"I'm not being a baby!" Goku swatted at Zenon's arm; the man let go of his hair, causing Goku to teeter and fall on his backside. Scrambling away from him but not standing up, Goku growled, "He's the one that said we could be in a relationship! He shouldn't have said 'yes' if he was still hung over some stupid gi--"

"_Hey!_" Zenon cut in, his tone so fierce it startled Goku into forgetting what he was saying. "Watch your goddamn mouth, you little brat! I don't like that he's carrying that sort of weight around, either, but I'm not going to bitch about it because it does _not_ concern me. It doesn't concern you, either, so stop acting like Homura fucking betrayed you!"

"Isn't that what he did?!" Resentful at Zenon's words, Goku quickly pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his bloodied hands as he did so. "That's _exactly_ what he did! He's not supposed to be with her anymore, because now he's with _me_. You heard him! He said we were like boyfriends!"

Appearing disgusted, Zenon stood as well. "I knew I shouldn't have gotten involved. You're just a child. You make everything seem worse than it really is."

"_I'm not a child!_" Goku screamed. He was fifteen years old, for crying out loud! It was completely unfair that they were excluding him from things. A lot of it had to do with Homura never mentioning Rinrei before, for always avoiding the subject, but a good deal of Goku's fury also had to do with the fact that he was _supposed_ to belong with this group. After three years he had finally gotten Zenon to accept him, was in a relationship with Homura, and even Shien didn't seem to dislike him as much as he had during their first meeting.

He considered all of that significant progress. That was why Goku couldn't understand why it was all falling apart around him. He hated that things were becoming unraveled.

"Well, you sure as hell are acting like one," Zenon returned with a snort. "Why don't you go cool off before you do something you'll regret?"

Something like red flashed behind Goku's eyes. He hardly heard the second sentence, all of his anger channeling into his fist as he curled his fingers and tackled the man without thinking. Seeming too surprised by the sudden violent movement, Zenon was unable to dodge in time and they both hit the floor. Goku's fist missed Zenon's face in his blind fury, and he let out a small shriek of frustration before he swung a second time.

Zenon caught the swing that would have otherwise hit its target that time. Snarling, Goku tried to pull his hand back, but the god held fast. Danger sparked in Zenon's visible eye, and the rational part of Goku's mind that had been pushed aside in his rage, flickering a warning signal

"Maybe," Zenon said through his teeth, "you were right. It's not like we really even need you yet anyway."

Freezing atop the man with his fist still trapped by Zenon, his other hand on the man's chest for support, Goku stared wide-eyed at him as he tried to work around his momentary speechlessness. His mouth moved without sound for a moment, but then he finally wrenched his hand free, climbing off Zenon as he demanded, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Grimacing, Zenon didn't answer. He got to his feet, dusting imaginary dirt off his clothes. "If you're going to take your anger out on something, make sure it's inanimate," he grumbled. "Or at least take it out on one of the damned demons downstairs."

"Don't change the subject!" Goku grabbed a handful of Zenon's jacket. "I asked what you meant by that." His eyes narrowed until they were nearly slits. "You meant that Homura should have left me in the cave, didn't you?"

"And that's why I warned you," Zenon snarled, "to cool off before you did something you'll regret. It gets you nowhere." With that he turned and stormed down the stairs. Too stunned to react, Goku just watched. When he could finally feel his legs again he forced himself to descend the stairs as well, but when he reached the bottom Zenon was nowhere in sight.

Muttering softly to himself, the boy walked over to the end of the hallway, slamming his fist into the wall. He cringed when the move reminded him of the pain in his hand.

Once the elevator doors opened Goku went inside, but he didn't press any buttons. Instead he sat down, curling into a ball in one corner of the cramped space. His eyes stung but he didn't cry, simply staring at nothing.

He had never known it was possible to hate everything so much.

------

This was the place. He knew without even needing to set foot inside. Standing outside the door of the old and tiny house, he found himself staring at the handle. It seemed foreboding, the mere sight of it making his lungs constrict painfully. Suddenly it was so hard to breathe.

The feeling gradually eased, and when he could suck in air normally again he finally relaxed. Though his hand trembled a little, Homura reached out and opened the door.

Inside were the signs of a place that hadn't been touched in years. The floor creaked with his every step; the windows let in filtered sunlight, their glass not having seen water in ages. Homura only took a few steps into the place, then turned his head as he slowly surveyed the layout. The entryway led right into the kitchen; there was a sink beneath one of the dirtied windows, and the faucet appeared to have rusted over time. There were dishes that seemed to have been clean before the residents had left, and some were at the table as though they had left in a hurry.

Other strewn objects supported that theory. Many little things caught Homura's eye, such as the clock against the wall that no longer worked. There was a long crack across the glass protecting the dials. Dust blanketed in heavy layers over the old-fashioned piece of work. He took another step forward, the motion kicking up even more of similar dust. He sneezed.

As Homura began to raise his head again something else caught his eye. He moved forward, this time unaffected by the refuse as he crouched down and picked up the object on the floor. It was a small toy, a tiny drum on a stick with beads attached to strings that made a clacking noise when he twirled it in his fingers. A heavy feeling added weight to his chest as he realized it was a child's toy.

_Well, of course she had children,_ he reminded himself. _That is how you were able to find this place._ Or rather, how Son Goku had been able to find it. Homura stopped that train of thought immediately. This wasn't the time to be thinking about the boy.

Still, the idea that she had bore another man's child saddened him, even made him mildly repulsed and jealous. He tried to ignore the latter feelings as he continued his walk through the house. He set the toy on the rectangular kitchen table before glimpsing the short hallway. Deciding that would likely lead to a bedroom or two, Homura strode toward it.

He was right. The tiny hallway had two doors in it; one opened into a storage cabinet, in which some food was still accumulated. Many perishables had rotted into unrecognizable clumps of mold; insects infested the place, cockroaches skittering across the floors and spiders weaving new webs around the old ones.

Calmly, Homura shut that door and moved to the next one. It was partially open, and when he pushed it with the tips of his fingers it swung further into the room. The hinges creaked loudly.

Inside there was a somewhat large bed. He saw no smaller ones, not even a crib, which indicated that the child must have slept with his or her parents. For a moment he toyed with the image in his mind, conjuring a sweet picture of his beloved Rinrei curled up on the bed after a hard day's work. One arm would be wrapped lovingly around the child; he could see the smile on her face as he imagined her stroking the child's hair, whispering a nighttime story until her gentle voice lulled her baby to sleep.

He allowed himself to imagine him on the other side of the child, his hand covering hers as they exchanged loving smiles. Thinking about it set aflame a painfully sweet fire to his emotions, and the feeling quickly turned bitter as he faded from the image and was replaced with a faceless, nameless man. The _real_ man who had helped create the child... and the real husband of his beloved, long-dead Rinrei.

The room suddenly felt too hot, the air too thick with expanding dust particles. Shuddering, Homura quickly left. He had seen enough of the house. Now it was time for him to do what he had come there for.

He didn't look at anything but the front door as he walked out. The air was less stifling outside, and Homura breathed it gratefully. His bi-colored eyes grazed over the area, and soon enough he found what he had been looking for. A grave marker.

He stood before it, quietly amazed that the rocks had stood there for so long. Slowly he fell to one knee, lightly resting his hand against the highest stone. Here lay his beloved of five hundred years past. It had taken him far too long to find her resting place, and for that Homura doubted he could ever forgive himself.

Seeing her grave strengthened his resolve to create his new world once again. There were brief times when he would weaken, feel he simply couldn't go through with the plan. Remembering those times made Homura bitter. Never again, he vowed. He was so close now; he had Son Goku, and the boy was nearly at the level of strength of which he'd be of great use to him. Once the boy was at that level, Homura would seriously confront Konzen -- no, Genjo Sanzo -- and take possession of his scripture.

_I am doing this for us,_ he thought, gazing at the grave marker. _This world will accept our love._

"This world will accept our love," he repeated aloud. Somehow speaking the words had a profound effect on him. He shivered; suddenly feeling nauseas as he slowly released the rocks. Staring at her grave, he murmured it again.

Then it hit him like a blow to the gut. Gasping, Homura doubled over completely, clutching his stomach with his arms. His forehead pressed into the grass as he shuddered violently. His eyes stung and before he realized it tears worked their way out of him. Clenching his eyes shut, Homura only fought for a few moments longer before a short sob tore itself from his throat.

Rinrei was dead.

She was _dead_. She was gone, not breathing, no longer living, and likely never would do either of those things again. He wouldn't see her smile or hear her laugh again. Finding her grave and realizing the full extent of his new world plans had finally driven the point home.

Homura had never felt so miserable. Even though his sobs were already dying down, the weight of the truth still pressed down on his shoulders, making him still unable to lift his head from the ground. Even when his brief show of tears stopped Homura didn't move. He felt as though he'd never be able to pick himself up again.

When time passed -- whether they were minutes or hours, Homura didn't know nor did he care -- he finally sat up. His previous sorrow had ebbed enough so that he felt numb. Wiping the dirt from his forehead, Homura heaved a sigh and picked himself up. He wasn't yet ready to return to Konran Tower and face up to his earlier actions there, but he would go back tomorrow morning anyway. Until then he was going to grieve while he could. He had a feeling he wouldn't have many opportunities to do so later.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Homura/Goku, mentioned Homura/Rinrei

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language

Notes: In many high schools in the US, finals are coming up or are happening. In those cases, I wish you all the best of luck. Here's a friendly reminder to try not to stress out.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Nineteen_

He hadn't expected things to be loud, but the silence greeting him when he entered the tower was unsettling. Homura didn't pause in his step, continuing forward and toward the stairs.

"Gonna take the long way?"

Amazed that he had been so preoccupied as to let himself be startled so easily, Homura turned his head toward the voice. Zenon stood off to his side, leaning against the wall. When they made eye contact the man raised two fingers in a wave.

"Yo," he said simply.

Too emotionally drained to summon up words, Homura nodded.

Pushing himself away from the wall, Zenon strode forward. "So I take it you found the place, since you're already back." His voice was casual, his demeanor relaxed, but Homura knew the man well enough to sense the underlying tension thrumming beneath his act. He wasn't in the mood to humor anyone today, but despite his mood he nodded again. "Did you finish what you had to do?"

"As much as I could," Homura replied quietly.

"Hm." Zenon pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping it until one poked out. He removed it with his teeth, then searched for a lighter while speaking around the cigarettes. Within moments the scent of tobacco unfurled itself into the air. Homura personally didn't care for it, but he had grown used to the smell.

When Zenon said nothing else, he turned to leave. Unfortunately, the man didn't seem finished.

"He's in your room, in case you're wondering."

Sighing, Homura didn't turn. He just ran a hand through his hair, speaking tiredly. "You apparently have something you wish to say."

"Just a little something," Zenon admitted. Homura still didn't turn; in his emotionally fragile state he didn't think he could look anyone in the eye. Zenon was one of his dearer friends, but there were some things that were nearly impossible to face-- whether they involved your friends or not.

He had the sinking feeling Zenon was going to bring Son Goku up. No, he _knew_ that was the topic Zenon wanted to bring up. Undoubtedly something had happened after Homura had left, something strange and biting enough to make Zenon want to talk about it before Homura went to face the boy himself.

"What the brat did was definitely out of line," Zenon was saying. "And some of the things he said after you left were even worse."

That didn't surprise him. He nodded indulgingly, even though the more Zenon talked the more Homura wanted to find the next empty bedroom, lie down, and just sleep for a few good hours. Visiting Rinrei's grave had taken more of a toll on him than he'd expected. He hadn't thought of the emotional weight such an action would thrown upon him. For the first time he realized he was truly coming to terms with her death-- and it was hard. He was having difficulties processing the facts; his heart insisted that even after Rinrei's death, their love was still alive-- but how could it be alive when she was gone and she had found a new love on Earth?

It wrenched his emotions horribly to think about it. Homura had found himself in tears more than just the one incident at her grave marker, but as always they would fade quickly as he forced himself to regain control. Keeping that control was wearing him thin.

He was just so tired of it all.

"All that aside," Zenon continued. "The kid had a point, you know."

His smile tinged with self-abhorrence, Homura said, "Which point? He made quite a few."

"No kidding," his companion muttered before speaking in a more normal tone. "But he was right that you should have told him about--" The look on Homura's face must have betrayed a warning, because Zenon blinked, then quickly seemed to change his mind. "Anyway, _someone_ should have told him about it."

"Unfortunately, nothing can be done about that now," Homura murmured. He'd had enough of this conversation. Glancing back to nod a goodbye to his comrade, Homura picked up his feet again and went for the stairs. It was going to be a long climb up, but he intended to tire himself out as much as he could. He wasn't looking forward to talking to the boy, wanted to avoid it more than anything else right then, but he continued onward.

Perhaps this was part of his punishment. Perhaps this was part of the curse that came with being a heretic. All the drama that had been caused in the past few days, all of the hurt and anger and misery that had occurred, it all came back to his curse as a heretic.

No, to _their_ curse as _heretics_. Admittedly, Goku was part of the reason he was so intent on creating this new world. If things worked out the way Homura wanted he was going to share this world with the people closest to him-- and with the people who most deserved it. Sometimes forgetting was worse than remembering.

Considering all the pain in the boy's past, Homura knew that Son Goku deserved this world even more than he. In a way it was chastising, especially at the moment, because he really had no right to be upset in comparison to the boy. Even if Goku was an amnesiac.

So far he had counted three flights of stairs during his ascent. He was still a safe distance from his room, so he felt free to let his mind wander a little more. However, he didn't want to think about his lover right then; that was only going to lead to depressing thoughts and gnawing anxiety. For the first time he could remember, he also didn't want to think about Rinrei. He had done a lot of that the night before, especially when he had been trying to sleep.

Homura had sought out the nearest town, which had proved to be fairly close to the house. It made some sense; the residents previously occupying the house had to get food and supplies somehow. The land around them was poor for growing their own gardens, though Homura had noticed some bluebells growing at the back of the house. He had circled the premises after his time at the grave marker, looking for anything he might have missed. He hadn't known what he was looking for, but in the end he felt disappointed. Whatever it had been, he had not been successful in finding it.

_Bluebells,_ he remembered. _Humility and everlasting love._ He didn't know much about flowers, but five centuries was time enough for him to learn and remember a few things. Whatever struck him as important he would store away in his memory. He hadn't understood why flower meanings were things he would want to remember later in life, but now he understood a little. His heart twisted painfully again. Shaking the memory of the house, his thoughts found the clustered trail they had been on and continued down that path.

Once in the town, Homura had walked around in a bit of a daze. He had looked at people without really seeing them, though he had miraculously managed to be aware enough so that he only bumped into a person once or twice. Each time it had been his fault, and each little collision had reminded him of the day he and Rinrei had first met.

Their first conversation had been about death.

Even without closing his eyes Homura clearly recalled the vast field of flowers; the petals blooming had seemed such a dark red, almost like blood. Blood was dirty-- at least, his was. That had been one of the first things he had said to her out in that field. He remembered how she had looked at him with such surprise, as though amazed that he could think such a thing about himself. Homura hadn't bothered to tell her he had grown up hearing it, but she likely had known just by looking at the shackles on his wrists.

Blinking, Homura realized that he had thought about her even after telling himself not to. He sighed softly, pausing to clutch the stair railing with one hand. Using his free hand to tangle his fingers in his hair, Homura closed his eyes and let out a second, heavier sigh.

That was exactly why he didn't want to think about her; thinking only made him depressed. He had been plenty upset the other night, moping in his hotel room the entire time. He had done more reminiscing and mourning than sleeping, which was another reason why he was so tired this morning.

Seven flights of stairs, he noted when he finally opened his eyes again. He still had quite a ways to go. Maybe if he was lucky Son Goku would have left by then-- and now that the boy had discovered their elevators, Homura had no doubt he would rather use that than the stairs.

He continued climbing.

Heaven hadn't contacted him in a while. In fact, the last time he had been summoned had been shortly after he and his companions had attacked Houtou Castle. The morning after Goku had left, he had received orders to appear before the Jade Emperor. As he wanted to keep up the impression that he was still under their rule, Homura had obliged.

Much to his surprise, he had been commended for his work thus far. His actions in subjugating the demons at Konran Tower had been called "decent independent work" (as they were careful not to praise him too much, lest he grow an ego or -- heaven forbid -- think anything of himself) and stealing the Seiten scriptures had been titled, "uncalled for, but clever enough" for them to dismiss. In fact, his work had been so good up until then that all charges previously against him for releasing Son Goku from the prison had been lifted.

The day he had done that -- freed the boy, let loose the heretic the heavens named dangerous -- Homura had known trouble would be coming his way. However, amazingly enough, all the script work he had planned out to help trick them into leaving the boy under his care had been useless due to someone else stepping in.

Information as to who had intervened on his behalf had never been disclosed to him, but Homura had a good idea, since the bodhittsava negotiating had pointed out that Homura was, in fact, going to die someday due to his human blood. Once that happened they would need a new God of War... and who better than the boy he had released and was training? Who else could pass on his techniques? Their former War Prince had been in a coma for many centuries; how likely was it that he would reawaken anytime soon?

The gods had seen the wisdom in that, though Homura was personally disgusted that was why they had allowed his small rebellion. He hated the way the gods used "unclean beings" to do their dirty work, and he would be damned if he allowed them to do that. That alone simply added a reason on to his creating the new world. If he could finish it before he died, Son Goku would be free of that before he had even been captured.

Of course, that was only going to happen if they could make peace. Homura winced, rubbing his forehead. As important as that was, it still made him wary. His wish for the boy to be elsewhere when he opened the door grew stronger.

He climbed the final flight of stairs leading to his room. Eyeing the door with trepidation, Homura took a steadying breath, surprising himself. He hadn't thought he was that tense, but apparently he was.

Pushing open the door, Homura's first impression was that the room was empty. Taking a closer look proved him right, and he felt a wave of relief that was closely followed by a stab of guilt. Why was he acting like such a coward? Homura hated having such a weakness. Avoiding the boy was foolish, as putting it off might make their later confrontation worse. Still, he couldn't help but sigh in relief and step inside before closing the door after him.

It didn't shut.

Too tired to hide a wince, Homura turned. His gaze lowered just enough to meet a pair of all-too-familiar golden eyes. Goku stood in the threshold, his hand flat on the door. The boy pushed it open, his expression unusually blank as he followed Homura into the room.

At first nothing was said. Goku stared at Homura, and the man grew increasingly uncomfortable and even more agitated than before. He wanted to sit down, but for some reason his legs didn't want to work with him. His knees were locked, preventing him from moving anywhere.

Finally, in a quiet voice, Goku said, "You seemed happy when you thought I wasn't here." Homura had nothing to say to that, so he simply diverted his eyes to the boy's hands. There were bandages wrapped around them, and some blood seeped through them. They didn't seem fresh, so he must have injured himself the day before.

When the boy seemed to realize Homura wasn't going to respond to his first comment, he spoke again. "So did you go?"

"Yes."

The weariness in his voice reminded him of how exhausted he was. Homura was about to move to sit down, but Goku spoke again.

"I'm really, really pissed at you right now, you know."

Bringing a hand to his eyes, Homura rubbed his eyelids harshly. He felt as old as his technical years right then, but at the same time as small as a child. Somehow he found that he would have appreciated Goku screaming more than the unsettling calm he was portraying then.

"I know," he finally murmured, lowering his hand again. He raised his eyes back to his lover.

Goku's expression didn't change. "I hate you for leaving like that, and I hate you even more for not telling me anything." His voice was breaking, the raw anguish bleeding from his words. "I seriously hate you right now, Homura."

The words stung, but he knew he deserved them. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Golden eyes narrowed, and even as Homura registered the twitching of the boy's arm he made no move to dodge. Goku's blow landed right on its mark.

------

A sharp flash of pain suddenly stabbed through Sanzo's temples. It was so abrupt and unexpected that he dropped his chopsticks with some rice halfway to his mouth. The rice spilled onto his lap -- thank the gods it was white rice with no sauce -- and the eating utensils clattered to the floor as Sanzo clutched at his skull, hissing in agony.

It didn't go unnoticed by his companions. Gojyo was the first to speak, though it was just to briefly tell Hakkai what was going on. Sanzo barely heard him; he shoved his chair away from the table so he could double over and rest his head on his knees. Normally he wouldn't do such things in public, but the pain was that unbearable. He could barely muffle his guttural cries of pain.

_What the hell is going on?_

That was the only coherent thought he could make out. The rest that bounced around in his mind was all a jumbled mess of images and phrases and voices.

Or rather, a single voice. The one he had last heard when he was fighting the boy named Goku.

It was crying out to him, pleading with more sensations than words for Sanzo to come find the owner of the voice. Begging for freedom, it continued calling out to him in a "tone" that Sanzo could only describe as childish. There was no real sound to it, even in his head, though it seemed to echo.

There was a strong hand on his arm. Someone was trying to pull him up, trying to speak to him, but Sanzo was beyond the point of actually hearing them. If he could concentrate he could have been able to tell who it was by touch alone-- Hakkai's grip was usually gentle but firm, and Sanzo had batted away Gojyo's hand enough to tell it was more calloused than Hakkai's. That difference was likely caused because of their different choice in weaponry.

Sanzo shoved the person away. He miscalculated the strength of his push, and the force of that and the hand letting him go caused him to fall back to the floor with a grunt. The fall sent another wave of pain to his head. He rolled over on his side, coughing weakly as he forced himself up to his hands and knees.

People were staring. He knew without having to look. Questioning eyes were burning into him, all wondering what had happened to make this high-class monk have a mental fit in public. Some were probably wondering if the food was poisoned.

Sanzo heard none of what was going on. The crying was growing louder, pushing his thoughts to the side so that Sanzo began to feel he was losing sight of himself. For a few moments he couldn't even remember his own name. The only thing that existed was the tormented sobbing. That was his world now. That was what was.

When Sanzo opened his eyes again he was startled to find himself lying in bed. He had been sure he was on the floor, and the screaming had seemed to last into eternity. By the time it began to dwindle he had started to come back to himself, and his surroundings were completely unfamiliar.

"You're in the room we're sharing."

The off-handed tone made him want to hit his head against the nearest solid object. Fortunately, Sanzo's headache was swelling back just enough for him to decide that wasn't the best of actions at the moment.

"Where the hell is Hakkai?" he grumbled, slowly sitting up. His neck felt sore for some reason.

Across the room Gojyo arched an eyebrow. "Bathroom, not that it's really that important."

Sanzo forced himself to focus on the man; he was sitting in a wooden chair near an open window, happily lighting up a fresh cigarette. There was a table beside him, and pulled to the edge was a clear ashtray. In that ashtray were three cigarette butts, which told him he had to have been out for at least an hour.

Seeming impatient in the silence, Gojyo broke it. "So what the hell happened?"

"None of your business," Sanzo muttered, rubbing his head. There was a small welt on his forehead, as though he'd hit it against something. But what, and how? Why couldn't he remember it?

As though enjoying the frustration seeping through Sanzo's expression, Gojyo smirked. "Betcha don't remember what happened, huh?"

"Asshole."

Gojyo ignored the insult, amazingly enough. Instead he said, "Hakkai had to hit you. Found a pressure point or something on your neck." He waved a hand to show he hadn't noticed or cared about it. "You fell and smacked your head against the leg of your own chair." He snorted. "You really have some shit luck."

"Fuck you," Sanzo returned, narrowing his eyes. As annoyed as he was with Gojyo, for the most part he was just relieved the voice was gone. That and he realized he badly craved nicotine. Shoving the sheets aside, he got up to dig out his own lighter and brand of cigarettes.

Inhaling the nicotine calmed his nerves, though his headache was still apparent. Sanzo took the seat nearest Gojyo; not because he wanted to sit next to him. The room only came with one ashtray and the window had very little ledge for Sanzo to perch on and smoke there. He supposed he could have pulled the chair over to it, but that seemed unnecessary.

The room was relatively silent for a while after that. The next sound that made either of the occupants stir was the door opening as Hakkai came into the room, wearing dampened night clothes and towel-drying his hair.

The brunette paused after shutting the door. "My. It's so quiet that if I couldn't sense you two, I wouldn't have known you were here."

Gojyo snorted, grinding out his cigarette. "Yeah. It's scary when we're not at each other's throats, huh?"

"I half expected it," Hakkai admitted, his usual smile in place. Rolling his eyes, Sanzo decided he would move over to the window to smoke after all.

After dragging his chair there Sanzo leaned his elbow against the windowsill, cigarette trapped between his middle and forefinger. He turned his gaze outside; there wasn't much to see, so he lazily focused on the smoke curling out from the end of his cigarette. He slowly blew smoke out into the open, but just as he did a brief gust of wind puffed it right back at him. Annoyed, Sanzo drew back and stood. He took his pack and lighter, leaving without a word to either of his companions. Neither tried to stop him.

He didn't leave the vicinity of the inn, settling for staying on the porch outside. He leaned with one shoulder on a pillar, staring without really seeing the side of the nearest building. The surroundings were vastly different, but he was still reminded of the night Goku had sought him out. He found himself smirking faintly as he recalled how the boy had fallen from the roof. Clearly it hadn't been how Goku had wanted to get his attention, but it had worked and left its impression on Sanzo.

What a strange way to call out to him, Sanzo thought absently as he flicked ashes from his cigarette. He started to bring it back to his mouth but froze, doing a double-take over his last thought.

_He was calling out to me,_ he realized. Goku had been reaching out for him, seemingly out of instinct more than anything else. The boy had followed him for reasons that still weren't entirely clear to Sanzo, yet he had claimed he would never switch sides. Perhaps that really _wasn't_ his intention.

Maybe he had just reached out to Sanzo because he'd been doing it longer than either of them had known. Maybe Goku even knew why he was reaching out. Whatever the case, Sanzo was certain, without needing proof, that Goku was the one calling out to him. He had been the one screaming for Sanzo to come and "release" him.

But release him from what? Was he stuck somewhere? If so, was it physical, mental, or emotional? Why was he calling out to Sanzo, of all people? And most importantly, why had he been asking for the same thing for nearly four years?

It was clear he was going to be outside longer than he'd anticipated. Sanzo had a lot more to think about than he'd realized. Making a mental note to buy more cigarettes before they left town, Sanzo searched for his lighter again.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**:: Perfect World ::**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Homura/Goku, Homura/Rinrei, implied Konzen(Sanzo)/Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, shounen ai

Notes: I have nothing to say except thank you for the reviews. And, as always, constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty_

Goku had expected the man to dodge, block, anything to avoid his punch. It stunned him when his knuckles connected with the side of Homura's face, and he found himself drawing back slightly to lighten the blow. The force still sent the man staggering back and onto the bed.

Had he not been so infuriated, Goku would have been terrified. It wasn't like Homura to just _let_ the boy through his defenses. He always had to make a point, to prove that Goku wasn't good enough yet, that he had to try harder if he wanted to fight well. His discouragements weren't disappointing, as Goku always strived to work harder when he couldn't meet the standards he wanted to. He _wanted_ to be able to beat Homura in battle; he had a burning desire to someday best Homura.

But not like this. Not when Homura was going easy on him, letting him do what he wanted. Goku's fists clenched again; the hand he'd hit Homura with throbbed in pain. His knuckles hadn't healed from the abuse from the previous day. Now they ached again. Thankfully it was a dull pain, not sharp as it had been after punching the wall yesterday, but it still hurt.

It angered him so much to see Homura push himself up. He sat down on the bed, face turned away from the boy, his hand rubbing over his jaw. There was no rueful expression, no sneering, not the vaguest glimmer of amusement. He just seemed tired.

That pissed Goku off more than it should have.

"Why did you let me do that?" he demanded hotly. "I know you could have blocked me easily!"

Homura still didn't meet his gaze. The man trailed his fingers over his cheek, the skin darkening to a faint red already. Goku viciously hoped it would bruise.

After rubbing his lips with his thumb a couple times Homura finally seemed convinced that he wasn't bleeding. He looked up at Goku. The boy recognized a shadow of the man's usual cynicism. "I deserved it."

"Damn right you did," Goku agreed. Somehow Homura admitting it only made him feel worse. The more rational part of Goku realized that he should probably calm down so they could work this out, but seeing Homura again only served to remind him how the man had simply touched his shoulders, said his thanks, and then left without so much as an apology. There were some things Goku simply was not going to stand for-- and Homura ignoring him for any reasons was definitely one of those things.

Goku had spent nearly the entirety of the day before in the elevator. He hadn't sat there the whole time, of course; he was too fidgety to hold one position for long. Curled up for nearly two hours had beaten his normal record of sitting still by far.

Once he had stewed over Zenon's words he had stood up, pressing the button of the highest floor. He had ridden the elevator all the way up, but when the doors had slid open he had pretended not to notice, waiting for them to shut again before he rode the elevator to the very bottom. There he had glimpsed Zenon, and he knew the man had seen him. If he had wanted to say anything, he had decided not to.

Goku had continued riding the elevator for a while. It was a stupid way to keep himself busy, but it had succeeded. His fun had ended when the door had opened in a random floor on the middle, and Shien had been there, greeting him with a mildly questioning look. Since he hadn't been in the mood for the Twenty Questions game (though Shien didn't seem the type to be a fan of that) Goku had traded places with the man.

Once Shien had disappeared Goku had immediately started to go about some basic exercises. He had heard somewhere that movement would relieve stress, and to his amazement it had helped. He thought he had been calm enough to face Homura. That morning he had done some more early exercises, working off what he had believed to be the last of his tension. The gods forbid; his heart had even skipped when he had seen Homura from the back.

Hearing the man sigh his relief had broken the glass-like sense of calm around him. Goku had decided that if Homura was going to act _his_ age, then he would act every bit the child they called him on.

"What do you want me to do?" Homura asked, still sounding as tired as he looked. The sound of his voice distracted Goku from his brief reminiscing. He stared at Homura, feeling a pang of guilt for pushing the man when he was clearly in such a delicate condition-- though "delicate" wasn't a word he would have normally used to describe Homura at all.

Even so, he didn't back down. "I don't know what I 'want' you to do," Goku muttered. Silently, he added, _What _I_ want to do is hit you again, you selfish jerk._ As tempting as it was, he doubted Homura would let down his defenses twice.

Rubbing his forehead, the god seemed to think trying from another angle would work better. "What do you _expect_ me to do?"

Goku's eyes narrowed. "I _expect_ you to tell me about Rinrei." His voice came out surprisingly cold; Goku realized he hated this person already. He hadn't hated her when he had heard the name. He had been angry that Homura had never told him about her, but he hadn't loathed her then as he did just now. "Everything about her. Everything about her that's made you this way. You owe it to me," he insisted.

Homura didn't seem to disagree to that. "There isn't much to tell," he said quietly.

He was slipping into one of his moods again. Goku actually paused this time, momentarily overwhelmed by the thought -- no, the feeling -- that he should back down. Homura definitely didn't seem up to talking.

But then again, that was his fault. Goku steeled his resolve, reminding himself that if Homura had really wanted to avoid things getting messy he shouldn't have left as he had. It was his own fault for doing exactly what he berated Goku for-- acting without thinking. Goku was sick of his evasive attitude.

"Then tell me what you can," he said impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest. He refused to budge until he got what he wanted.

Sighing, Homura ran a hand through his hair, his chains clinking together softly. There was an elongated pause, another sigh, and then he quietly began to speak.

------

When he reached up to rub his temple Homura vaguely noted that the vein there was throbbing. It took him a few moments to make that connection with his headache. It was growing worse, partially because he'd been talking so long and partially because the air had grown even tenser during his tale. Goku had finally given up on trying to stand still; he was still pacing now.

Homura wanted so badly to lie down. If only they could have tried resolving things tomorrow, or at least after he'd gotten a few hours of sleep. His thoughts were beginning to become muddled. Someone was speaking, and it took him too long to realize it was Goku's voice.

He was clearly exhausted. But as much as he wanted to just collapse right there, he didn't have the strength to tell Goku to leave him alone. He knew he was making things worse for himself by not doing so, but common sense wasn't exactly the first or foremost thing on his mind at the moment.

He had told Goku the basics of his and Rinrei's past relationships, hoping it would satisfy the boy's curiosity and soothe his nerves. To his surprise and dismay, it only did the former. Goku seemed even twitchier than he had before Homura had said anything.

The bed felt so inviting under his hands. Homura had the childish urge to just crawl under the blankets, shoes and all, and curl up under the covers for a few hours. Maybe even a few days. Tracing the pads of his fingers over the sheets, he finally broke the silence.

"What is it?"

Goku finally stopped pacing, whirling to give him an angry glare. It wasn't fierce, but he was clearly unhappy. "That's stupid."

The blunt comment seemed to pull a trigger in Homura's thoughts. He blinked, some of the confusion rapidly dissipating. "Excuse me?"

"I said it's stupid," the boy snapped.

His words were a virus, sparking the annoyance that had been buried under Homura's numbness for so long. A small frown touched his lips; he knew he was more in control of his expressions than Goku was, even when tired. "Why is it stupid?"

Goku spread his arms wide, his eyebrows drawn down. "Five hundred years," he said. "Five hundred. That's as long as I was in the cave, Homura!"

"Ironic, isn't it?" he bit back, the barest tinge of sarcasm in his words.

Either Goku didn't hear him or he ignored the remark. It was likely the first. "I can't believe you've been hung up on a girl for _five hundred_ years," he said, sounding disgusted. "A dead one! That's pathetic!"

He was toeing a dangerous line. Homura shifted a bit, resisting the urge to snap back at the boy for putting down Rinrei in any shape or form. Goku was a teenager; teenagers were prone to saying things without thinking, from Homura's experience. Even adults did it. It seemed to be another bad habit of Zenon's that the boy had been unfortunate enough to pick up.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," he said flatly. Normally using that tone would make Goku flinch, or at least turn his head, but he did neither of those things. Homura wondered if the boy was growing immune to some of his subtle warnings.

"I'm sorry I feel that way, too," Goku returned, his voice clipped. "Gods, I didn't think you were the type to fall in love so easily."

_So easily... _He hadn't thought of it as _easy_. True, on the flipside it hadn't really been difficult. Rinrei had been a sweet girl, especially by Heaven's standards. There had been -- and still were -- very few gods who weren't prejudiced by nature. Most of them had looked down on Homura with contempt; he was only half-blood, was filthy in his human/god crossbreed. How was his existence any better than a child borne of a demon and human? The two could not mix; they were not interchangeable. That was why it had been forbidden.

However, Rinrei had looked past that. Homura had been so surprised to hear _her_ apologize to _him_. It had never happened before; not in his whole miserable life, and Homura had lived quite a while. The day he had been released from his prison -- not in the way he had released Goku from _his_ prison -- he had also discovered that his life had been extended far past anyone's expectations. The very first question he had heard had been, "How long do you intend to live?"

Rinrei had know he would die prematurely. She had known he was a heresy; talking to him was bad enough, but loving him was forbidden. He had loved her immensely, deeply-- how could he not have? How could he refuse the affections of the first person to have ever shown him any sort of care? Homura had never even seen his own mother to his knowledge; he didn't know if he had ever received her love.

But Rinrei... loving her had been one of the hardest things Homura had ever done. It wasn't _easy_ caring for someone you knew you couldn't fool yourself into being with forever. Even as she had vowed to die with him, even when he had gently brushed his fingers across her cheek, promising that he would never die, Homura had known it was impossible. That was what had made their love so hard to endure.

But they had endured it, even if it had only lasted a few days. Or so Homura thought; time seemed to have little meaning in the heavens. How could holding on to a forbidden, doomed love possibly be easy, as Goku had just said it was?

Homura shook his head as though the motion would shake off his thoughts and sudden sense of dread. This argument wasn't going to lighten anytime soon. "You wouldn't understand."

That triggered the explosion.

"I wouldn't under_stand_?" Goku snarled. The ferocity of his tone ripped at Homura's eardrums. Normally the boy sounded so lighthearted; to suddenly hear such a level of sheer anger was almost literally painful. "What the hell do you mean that I wouldn't understand?!"

"You haven't been in love, so you wouldn't know," Homura said. His voice was barely level; he could practically feel the teetering in his words. If he wasn't careful he was going to say something he would regret later.

Or perhaps he just had.

At his words Goku paled, his features twisting from lividness to shock in a split second. Then, slowly, he began to redden, his fingers twitching into tightly balled fists. "You..." He seemed to flounder a moment. His voice abruptly rose as though his feet had suddenly discovered a strong foundation. "How do _you_ know? Just because I never liked a girl means I've never been in love? Is that it?!"

"That's not what I said," the man said quietly.

"Then what _did_ you say? Because that's what it sounded like to me!" Goku pressed forward, making the distance between them uncomfortably meager. Homura fought not to cringe and back away; the last impression he wanted to give was that he was backing down. He had done enough of that lately. "How do you know I'm not _in love_ with you? How the _hell_ do you know?!"

Through his teeth, Homura said, "I know, because you cannot be."

"_Why not?_"

"Because, Son Goku," Homura began, rising to his aching feet again. His movement forced the boy to take a step back. "It is hard to be in love with someone when your heart already belongs to somebody else."

The boy practically shrieked in frustration. "Who else could I possibly care for as much?! Damn you, Homura, start making some _sense_ for once!"

"Konzen." The name made Goku's eyes widen; his pupils abruptly contracted, as though they were sinking into his golden irises. He seemed dumbfounded, but not angry. Not angry, Homura knew, because it was true. Feeling his hostility seep out as rapidly as it had filled him, Homura said in a drained voice, "You care for Konzen as much."

And that, he decided, was why whatever Goku wanted from him couldn't possibly last. Whatever feelings the boy held for him, they were nothing in comparison for what he held for Konzen. Homura had seen how the boy had clung to the man back in the heavens. Though the two rarely physically touched, the attachment was still blatant. Almost always it would be Goku who grabbed his master, sometimes by the hand or pants, most often by his sun-gold hair. Whatever was within his small reach, he would seize and hold fast.

True, Goku didn't remember Konzen, but that sort of affection couldn't be forgotten about entirely. Homura was positive a buried part of the boy recognized Genjo Sanzo as the Konzen Douji from his forgotten years. While Konzen and Sanzo were _not_ one in the same, they were still the same soul. No matter which form that soul took on, it would always shine brightly enough to be Goku's Sun.

That was why there was no possible way Goku could be in love with him. Yet Homura didn't dare tell him of his past. There was a chance Goku wouldn't believe him -- especially in his current state of mind -- and even if he did, the heavens were determined to make sure the heretic stayed oblivious to his past. He was only safe from their punishment at the moment because he knew not of the carnage and chaos he had caused so many centuries ago.

And because Homura had pulled a few strings.

At last Goku seemed to get his vocal cords to work. "I don't believe you," he whispered. "I can't... believe..."

"Am I wrong?" Homura asked, sitting back down. He rested his elbows on his knees, tangling his fingers in his hair. Maybe if his head would stop pounding so hard he would have been able to think straight. All he could to was speak. "You followed him all that way, miles to the west, just to speak to him." He found himself smiling bitterly. "When you fought with him, you protected him."

"What does that prove?" Goku asked, his pitch growing dangerously high even for him. "You're the one who sent those gods after us! We had to team up so we could beat them-- and you know you would have done the same thing!"

"Perhaps," Homura agreed, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "But what you don't understand is that you have been this way since before your imprisonment."

He shouldn't have said that. He knew Goku was only going to have a load of questions, knew that he didn't want to put up with them, but he was beginning to feel lost. He just wanted the boy to leave.

"What... is Konzen a god?" Goku was asking tentatively. "He... he doesn't seem familiar with the name we call him. Did I know him before I was locked up? Really?"

He had so many questions. The boy was asking so much of him, and Homura couldn't even think in a straight line long enough to ask questions of himself. Under many other circumstances he would have gladly explained, would have given the boy his life story. In fact, Homura was willing to do just that if Goku inquired-- later.

Not now. He couldn't answer anything now. Homura knew he was on the verge of snapping. He also understood that if he didn't get the boy out of the room soon he knew he would end up taking everything out on him. While that might relieve him of some stress while he did it, Homura had barely enough sense left to know that he would regret that more than anything.

"Leave."

His abrupt order silenced the questions. Without looking Homura could picture the boy staring at him, a battle of emotions warring behind his eyes. Golden eyes. Eyes of heresy.

Gods, he was so _tired_.

"But Homura--"

"I am not in the mood to put up with a child," he ground out, clenching his eyes shut tightly. Attempting to shove his conscience aside, he continued in an even harsher tone, "Leave, or I will make you. I do not think you will find it pleasant to fall from a window this high up."

There was a rebellious silence; for a moment Homura thought the boy was going to hit him again. He didn't think he had the energy left to block if it came to that. After a few moments he finally heard a rough, frustrated curse fall from the boy's lips. It was strong enough to make him wince, and he did so again when the bedroom door slammed shut.

Once he was certain the footsteps had receded down the stairs Homura collapsed to the mattress. He turned over on his stomach pressing his face into the sheets. That didn't help, as Goku's scent was still there. It seemed as though the boy had slept there despite Homura's absence... almost as though he had been hoping the man would return in his slumber.

Homura felt queasy. A bitter taste stung his throat and for a second he thought he would actually be sick. Then the nausea faded, though it didn't disappear altogether and the sour taste was still there.

"Gods," he whispered hoarsely, clenching his eyes shut. He subconsciously clutched at the covers beneath him, twisting them in his strong fingers. "Gods," he repeated, his voice gritty. "I _hate_ the gods..."

------

It was admittedly a surprise to see the man there. His face as neutral as ever, Shien walked toward him. He moved quietly, but around this man he took deliberate steps to make sure his presence was audible. Sometimes surprise wasn't the best tactic.

He stood just two paces behind the man, turning his face toward the doorway. His eyes opened just enough for him to take in the sight before them; many demon-turned-gods were crowded in the room, all practically lifeless, many sitting there and staring ahead with dead eyes. Though he didn't want to admit it, those eyes sent chills down Shien's spine.

That was because their blank stares reminded him of Nataku.

"I thought they'd freak you out," his companion remarked off-handedly.

Shien glanced briefly at him before turning his attention back to the demon-turned-gods. "And I thought their very sight would anger you," he returned with his own brand of humor.

He heard Zenon inhale audibly; that and the combination of his unique cigarette brand were clear signs the man was smoking. "They do," he heard Zenon say. "They piss me off like hell."

"One would think you wouldn't want to see them, if that was the case," Shien murmured, the barest hints of a smile curving his lips. This time there was no humor of any sort in his voice.

He sensed rather than saw his comrade shrug. "They're a reminder, I guess," the man said gruffly. "Makes me even more determined to go through with it all, y'know?"

"I suppose," Shien agreed. He had his own concerns involving the creation of the new world, but each time he thought of them he reminded himself of his vow. Homura had offered them a chance to rebel against the heavens, to start anew in a world where all their troubles would be erased. Some problems could only be wiped away before the healing could begin.

Many of Shien's issues were like that. He constantly berated himself for failing Nataku in this world, and so he had made a second promise once he had decided to follow Homura. Not only would be remain loyal to his leader, but he would atone for all his sins in this new world. He was well aware that Homura was creating this world in the name of his deceased love. In a similar way, Shien was contributing to the cause in the name of the one person he could not protect. He would do better in this world. They would all do better.

That is, unless Goku continued to hinder them.

That was his true concern with the boy. Goku didn't understand Homura or his intentions, and thus he shouldn't be following him as devotedly as he claimed to. Shien had the feeling that if they had instead left the boy in Mount Gogyo someone else would have set him free-- likely Konzen, since their fates seemed tied together. Then the boy would have been loose when they needed him to be, and Goku wouldn't have been making Homura as miserable as he was.

Of course, Homura had his share of the blame as well. Shien couldn't say the man hadn't brought it upon himself.

As though reading his thoughts, Zenon grumbled, "I think we ought to make this world our new world's Hell."

Appreciating the wry humor, Shien smiled.


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Hakkai/Gojyo, mentioned Homura/Goku and Gonou/Kanan

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, shounen ai

Notes: I apologize that the formatting is messed up, in comparison to earlier chapters. Apparantly using double hyphens is now taboo as well, nevermind that it's the way I show the difference between hyphened words and breaks in speech...

Oh well. After this story I'll probably just type in Word instead of transfering.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-One_

The balcony was so narrow that Sanzo could feel the curtains from inside the sliding glass door brushing against his ankle. He shifted his leg to get away from the annoying tickling sensation; his gaze turned toward the sky as he dangled a half-empty beer can from his thumb and two forefingers. The night was cool, so he had decided to drink a little. It was a rare moment when he didn't feel wound up or tense, so his cigarettes lay momentarily abandoned on the table inside.

The air was almost ridiculously peaceful. Sanzo half expected an ambush to crawl out from beneath his bed and attack him while his back was turned. Come to think of it, that seemed to be the only tactic the enemy hadn't tried so far.

_Speaking of which, we haven't seen that brat in a while,_ he thought suddenly, bringing the can to his lips. The alcohol had a faint tin taste to it; just as Sanzo liked it. Chilled beer was the only alcohol he was willing to drink. Anything stronger seemed too base, but nearly everything more refined always left a too-sweet taste that didn't agree with his tongue.

He heard a soft telltale scrape on the roof behind him. Rolling his eyes, Sanzo lowered his gaze to peer down from the second story of the inn. Wonderful. That simple thought had jinxed him.

He spoke in an exasperated tone. "What do you want?"

From the strangled noise that emitted from the intruder's mouth Sanzo knew he had successfully surprised him. He allowed himself a satisfied smirk, keeping his eyes trained on the ground and pretending to be lazy. It should have been disturbing how he had known who it was without even looking, but it just felt natural.

The boy's presence felt natural, and at the same time uncomfortable. It made Sanzo want to beat his head in.

"How did you know it was me?" Goku's voice sounded softer than Sanzo remembered. Either his memory was getting a little rusty or something had happened to the boy. Deciding it couldn't possibly be him, Sanzo rested the blame on his visitor. He also decided that _if_ something had happened to cause this small but noticeable change in the boy, it was none of his business.

Keeping those thoughts to himself, he said aloud, "It's not hard to smell a monkey that close." There was no need to be honest with him- and anyway, Sanzo had discovered during their last encounter that if he pushed the right buttons he could get an interesting rise from the boy. It was cheap amusement, yes, but with the entertainment he was surrounded by on a day-to-day basis any change was welcome.

"I'm not a monkey," Goku protested.

Sanzo snorted softly. "You sure like high places," he said, not exactly changing the subject. He lifted his head back to survey the rest of the town. There was no hint of enemy activity aside from the child behind him. Even then Sanzo wasn't sure if it was appropriate to call it an "enemy activity." The last time Goku had visited him it had clearly been an independent act.

So independent, in fact, that it made Sanzo honestly wonder where the boy's loyalties really lay. He had claimed he would never betray his leader, but this was the second time he had willingly sought Sanzo out. It made the priest more than a little skeptical.

In response to his question, Goku said, "Yeah, well... we live in a tower." Sanzo tilted his head just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the boy from the corner of his eye. Goku was still on top of the inn, kicking his legs over the side as he lay on the slanted roof. From the quick glance it was hard to tell if his eyes were closed or not. "I'm used to high places," he added as though in an afterthought.

Rolling his eyes, Sanzo asked heavily, "Are you sure you should be telling me that?" The silence was answer enough; the blonde scoffed and straightened up a bit, bringing the can to his mouth for a swallow. "Simple idiot," he muttered around the tin.

"I'm not simple," the boy whined. Sanzo ignored him; he didn't like giving spoiled children attention, after all. His lack of response seemed to make the boy sulkier.

"What do you want?"Sanzo rotated his wrist a bit, listening to the can's contents slosh around faintly. A slight hiss accompanied the sound, but he paid it little mind. Most of his attention was on the boy behind him, waiting for his answer.

"Do I have to want something?" Goku returned with a question of his own. Sanzo had to grudgingly admit that the boy was smarter than he had just given him credit for. Now it was his turn to consider the question. Somehow he saw their developing conversation as a puzzle of sorts. Something about the boy intrigued him, and it had more to do than just getting Goku on their side for his power. Sanzo was far above asking something like that.

But if he could make Goku think it was his own idea, there was nothing wrong with that. Nobody could mock him, say he was getting attached when he really wasn't, and Sanzo would be doing his job as ordered by the Sanbutsushin. After all, who could fault or tease him for that?

"Everyone is out to get something," he finally said in a low voice. "Even if it isn't stealing, even if it's as drastic as a life, _everyone_ is wanting something."

The boy couldn't seem to find anything to say to that. Smirking again, Sanzo lowered his chin to make sure the expression was hidden in the shadows.

Goku's next question startled him. "Can I have a drink?"

Sanzo finally turned, the small of his back against the railing as he eyed the boy skeptically. Goku had pushed himself up, leaning back on his elbows as he looked straight at Sanzo. They were close enough for Sanzo to see his eyes, even in the surrounding darkness. What he saw was curious. Goku didn't seem hard to read, and if that was the case then Sanzo knew the emotions he was deciphering ran along the lines of hurt and sullen.

So the boy had come to brood and pile his teenage angst on him. Exasperated, Sanzo said shortly, "This isn't a kid's drink, you idiot."

"I know what it is," Goku said defensively.

"Then you know you're nowhere near the proper age to be drinking it," Sanzo returned, taking a swig just to irritate the boy further. It seemed to work; Goku was glaring at him now.

"How do you know?"

The blonde quirked an eyebrow. "How old are you?"

Goku hesitated, which was indication enough that he was going to try to lie. "Twenty-two." Sanzo snorted, and the boy quickly backtracked. "Okay, fine, eighteen."

"I _might_ buy that," Sanzo muttered, knowing full well there was no way the boy was eighteen years old. Even for someone who was as active as Goku clearly was, the brunette still had some roundness to his cheeks that spoke of more childish years than adult.

Seeming insulted, Goku asked, "Well, how old do you _think_ I am?"

"Ten," the priest said calmly.

The boy bristled, flaring. "I am _not_ ten! I'm almost sixteen-" He paused, seeming to realize what he'd just done, then growled in frustration and flopped on his back again.

Sanzo didn't even try to hide his smirk this time. He shook his beer can a little. From the sound of it, the contents were nearly gone. Were any sober person to try drinking it, there was no possible way they could get drunk.

Deciding he wanted a cigarette anyway, Sanzo reached up as he started back to the glass door, giving the boy's foot a push. When Goku sat up Sanzo held up the can, waiting until the boy had taken it before continuing inside.

As he grabbed his cigarettes the boy complained. "It's mostly gone!"

"Good observation," Sanzo said dryly, tapping a cigarette from the pack. He briefly considered telling his visitor that there was more alcohol in the compact refrigerator, but then decided that could wait until Goku decided if he even liked the taste or not. After all, it wasn't as though _he_ were in charge of the child. If that had been the case he wouldn't have even let him try the beer.

But he was _not_ in charge of the boy, and thus Goku wasn't his responsibility. He cupped a hand over the end of his cigarette, lighting it before he walked back outside.

Goku was draining the rest of the can's contents just as he emerged. The boy made a face. "Ugh... that was kinda bitter. How can you stand it?"

"It's an acquired taste." Sanzo paused to take a soothing drag of nicotine before continuing. "That's why I told you it's not for kids."

"Is it supposed to taste that flat?"

"Shut up and drink it," Sanzo said irritably.

Shaking the can at him, Goku said, "It's gone. There wasn't much left, you jerk." With a sigh the boy cast the empty can a forlorn look before he crushed it against the shingles. The crunch made Sanzo wince; it seemed loud enough to wake the entire town. Luckily, it wouldn't- and it didn't seem to.

Sanzo turned his eyes to the side, peering at the dark window of the room next to his. Hakkai and Gojyo were sleeping there; he remembered seeing Hakkai running his fingers on the wall to his left before finding the room. Not even the curtains stirred, so it seemed that the noise hadn't woken them.

Then again, for all he knew they were awake and eavesdropping on them.

Turning his thoughts back to the present moment, Sanzo resumed his earlier position against the railing, crossing his ankles. "I know you didn't come here to get alcohol off me," he stated flatly. "This has to be completely out of your way, so I know running into you isn't coincidental, either."

"Mm..." The boy nodded a little, closing his eyes. "We actually live east from here. It's takin' longer and longer to find you guys."

"Why bother?" When Goku shrugged Sanzo scowled, observing the boy closer. It was almost as though he were making small talk just to fill the silence. "If you're trying to spy on us, you're doing a shit job at it."

Goku actually laughed. The sound was startling, mostly because Sanzo was sure he hadn't said anything even remotely amusing. The laughter continued to be drawn out too long, making him change his mind about it. The laugh was actually dry, almost angry. That was a strange way to describe it; angry laughter. To Sanzo, it seemed like an oxymoron.

_Then again, anything with this kid is moronic..._

Now _that_ he could understand someone laughing at, had he said it aloud. Sanzo found he briefly wished the boy were closer so he could smack him on the head. Shaking himself, he instead grumbled, "You're such an idiot."

Wiping his eyes, Goku said through half-hysterical giggles, "At least..." He paused, shoulders shaking as he struggled for control of himself again. "Better that than... than a child who doesn't understand," the boy finally managed to choke out, still laughing. It sounded weaker now, pained.

Sanzo grimaced. He really didn't want the boy's problems piling on his shoulders; he had enough of his own. Despite that he found himself asking sarcastically, "Problems with your parents?"

His comment made the laughter abruptly cut off. Goku opened his eyes, his eyes nearly bronze with burning anger. "They're not my parents," he growled, the change in his voice so drastic that Sanzo blinked.

He tried not to show his surprise. "Whatever. I'm right, aren't I?" He swung his arm to the side, flicking the ashes loose over the edge of the balcony.

Goku didn't reply at first. The boy thumped his heel against the roof a couple times, suddenly seeming more interested in his boots than Sanzo. Scoffing, the blonde brought the cigarette to his lips again. Just when he closed his eyes Goku spoke softly.

"I just... really hate being ignored, y'know?"

Sanzo resisted the urge to say no, he _didn't_ know. He supposed he would be less than pleased if someone brushed him off when he was trying to talk to them- but he rarely _tried_ talking to anyone. Most people listened to him anyway, either because they recognized and revered him as a high-ranking monk or in some cases even because of his looks.

He thought, somewhat randomly,that if Gojyo ever tried calling him pretty again he _would_ shoot the bastard between the eyes.

Goku seemed to take his silence as the go-ahead to continue. "Don't you ever just... your friends get on your nerves, and all you wanna do is hit something? Or hit them?"

So he was having personal issues with one or more of his teammates. Uncrossing his ankles to he could lean his weight on one foot, Sanzo thought about the question and found himself agreeing with the boy. Since he didn't want it to look like that, he instead said, "What's your point, idiot?"

Not seeming to mind the barb, Goku murmured, "I don't know. I just wanted to get away."

Sanzo couldn't resist asking, though he already knew the answer. "Is that why you ran to find me before?" Goku said nothing, but he nodded. Sanzo had hit the nail on the head. He rolled his eyes. "If you hate it so goddamn much, why don't you just leave?"

He had expected a vehement reply, a fierce reiteration that the boy would never abandon his team. Instead he was met with silence. Blinking, Sanzo had to look up to make sure the boy hadn't fallen asleep. Or died. Goku had stopped swinging his feet and was staring at them, a small frown on his lips.

"I don't have anywhere else to go," the boy finally said.

"Then find a place."

"I don't think anyone would take me in..."

"Some people like annoying brats."

The quiescence that followed his remark made him think Goku was sulking because he had been insulted again. Looking at him proved the guess wrong; Goku was still looking down, still appearing strangely thoughtful.

When Goku finally spoke it was slowly, as though he were picking out his words as he thought about them. "If I did that... left them, I mean... would you guys have me?"

Sanzo arched an eyebrow. "Why should I?" he asked, being careful not to include his other two companions. He wasn't going to speak for them, not on a question like that. Besides, since they had apparently dubbed him as the unspoken leader, he didn't see any reason why he should even consider what their opinion might be on a subject like this.

Goku shrugged. Changing the subject, he said, "You know, there's somethin' that's been bothering me lately-"

"I don't want to hear your family problems," Sanzo interrupted crossly.

Hackles rising, Goku snapped, "It's not a family problem! It has nothing to do with me. Do you even hear people out when they're talking to you?"

"What's the point?" Sanzo glanced down, noting that his cigarette was nearly burned to a stub. He took a final drag of it, blowing the smoke into the night air so that it briefly obscured Goku's face. The boy's nose wrinkled, but Sanzo ignored it. "Nobody has anything interesting to say."

"How do you know I don't?" At the look Sanzo gave him, Goku immediately backtracked, clearly not wanting an answer to that. "I was just wondering what your real name was."

The question sent an unexpected jolt through Sanzo's entire body. He paused in the middle of moving back toward the room, forgetting about the cigarette still burning in his hand. Staring at the boy, Sanzo wondered what had ever given him the idea that "Sanzo" wasn't his real name.

Then he remembered. The god, their leader, the one they called Homura- he had called him "Konzen." Where he had gotten that name Sanzo had no idea. He hadn't liked - still didn't like - how the boy's companions had treated him as though they had known him for a long time. That sort of familiarity irked Sanzo, especially when he didn't even know who they were.

After the discomfort passed Sanzo finally found the words to answer. "It sure as hell isn't Konzen," he said flatly, cursing himself for the slight waver in his voice. He acted as though it hadn't happened. If Goku noticed it he didn't comment.

"Well, what is it, then?" the boy persisted.

"None of your damn business."

Goku didn't seem so ready to give up. "I heard your friends-"

"Companions," Sanzo cut in sharply.

Ignoring him, Goku continued as though he hadn't spoken. "-call you something else. They call you Sanzo."

"And so will you, if you know what's good for you," Sanzo muttered. He was beginning to grow irritated with the boy's presence. Opening his mouth to tell him off, a sudden hot, sharp pain in his fingers made him yelp before he could get the words out. He dropped the cigarette, shaking his stinging hand and cursing softly. Crushing the stub beneath one of his sandals, Sanzo found he was grateful for not taking them off before stepping outside.

But a burn was a burn, and his fingers stung like hell. _Damn brat, making me forget that,_ he growled inwardly, ignoring the boy when he asked if Sanzo was okay. He kicked the cigarette butt over the edge of the balcony, stalking inside and to the adjoining bathroom so he could run cold water over the injury. If this prevented him from being able to smoke in the morning, Sanzo was going to kill something. Right then he could only think that Goku had better be smarter than he looked, because if he didn't leave that something was going to be him.

There was a too-audible _thud_ that told him Goku had left his perch atop the roof. For a split second Sanzo thought he was leaving, but the sound of footsteps in his room told a completely different story.

Without turning, Sanzo snapped, "Get out."

The footsteps hesitated. "But-"

"I said get out!" Turning off the faucet, Sanzo turned to glare at him. "I don't recall giving you permission to come in. I don't care why you're here- we're _still_ enemies as long as you're with your teammates. Understand?"

Goku fidgeted, though he didn't lower his eyes this time. "I... if I left them-"

"Don't be stupid," Sanzo said coldly. "For the last goddamn time, get _out_."

This time Goku finally nodded, taking a couple steps back. He opened his mouth as though to say more, stopped when Sanzo's glare hardened, then gave another small nod before he turned and left. Sanzo nearly snapped at him for climbing over the railing, but bit his tongue and simply watched as the boy went over and disappeared.

Once he was out of sight Sanzo remembered his mission. Growling softly, be thumped his forehead with the heel of his hand. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ he told himself angrily. _Even if he _is_ annoying, you're supposed to get him to go with you. How the hell are you going to make that happen now?_

Damn his orders. They got in the way of everything. Alternating between cursing himself and the boy, Sanzo at last decided to retire for the night.

Unfortunately, his sleep was restless.

-

Leaning sideways, Gojyo rested his hand against the wall to steady himself as he peered out the crack the curtains over the sliding window. He smirked faintly, pushing some dark strands of hair from his eyes before he leaned back. "Kid's gone," he reported.

From the corner of his eye he saw Hakkai nod. "I see. And Sanzo?"

"Hasn't come out. Must've driven the kid off." Gojyo finally pulled away from the window, deciding Goku wouldn't be returning anytime soon. "So?"

"So what?"

"What do you make of that?" Gojyo asked, a hint of impatience in his voice.

His lips twitching into an amused smile, Hakkai said calmly, "I think it was rude of us to eavesdrop."

Gojyo snorted, though he was secretly relieved that Hakkai had said "us" instead of "you." That indicated that he was more at ease with the concept than he let on with the rest of his words. Then again, it shouldn't have surprised him- Hakkai was the _master_ of words.

"So? It pisses me off that he thinks he could make such an important decision without consulting us," Gojyo groused. "I mean, hell, the kid would affect us if he _did_ come along."

"Perhaps that's just it," Hakkai suggested. "Maybe Sanzo doesn't _intend_ for him to come along."

"It's the principle of the idea, Hakkai. The principle." Threading his fingers through his hair again, Gojyo leaned his head back against the wall. "He's already so damn high and mighty."

A soft chuckle made him open an eye. Hakkai's head was turned down, giving the impression that he was staring at his hands. Naturally, Gojyo knew better, but it still gave him a sharp pang of emotion in his chest. It had been a habit of Hakkai's to look at his hands when he was thinking about something; Gojyo remembered it from their weeks of living together before Sanzo had tracked Cho Gonou down.

Sometimes he wondered if Hakkai missed being Cho Gonou. Sure, as that man he had lost a lover, committed mass murder, and had witnessed many horrible things... but he had also had his sight. He'd been able to see color, to see the night sky littered with stars, to see the hand he was dealt in a game of poker.

Gojyo opened his mouth, intending to ask if his suspicions were true, but quickly shut it again. As close of friends as they had become in such a short period of time, they still weren't _that_ close- and it was none of his business even if they were.

"What are you thinking about?"

The question made him blink. At first he could only think that Hakkai was getting uncannily good at sensing his various moods, but then Gojyo's brain finally kicked into gear. He said the first thing that came to mind. "Wishing I could get laid."

"Ah." Hakkai fell silent, though Gojyo knew it wasn't from embarrassment. They were men; they were adults. They were more than capable of talking about sex without becoming uncomfortable. So long as they stayed clear of the topic of Hakkai's former lover, in any case. "My apologies," the brunette finally said.

Gojyo waved a hand idly, then quickly stopped, knowing Hakkai couldn't see it. "Whatever. It's no biggie."

Sounding too amused, Hakkai said, "Well, I'm sure it could become a 'biggie' if we don't distract you."

Snorting, Gojyo said, "I wasn't aware you had a crude sense of humor."

At that Hakkai arched an eyebrow. "I certainly don't, but take it as you please." Gojyo was a little skeptical of that, but wisely kept quiet. "I was merely offering to distract you somehow."

"What, with sex?"

The words had come out before Gojyo had time to think about them. He blinked, then immediately regretted speaking. While he and Hakkai _had_ slept together before, it had only been on occasion. When it took place they never talked about it- it just _happened_. They never talked about it after the fact either. It was an unspoken agreement between them. Or at least, it had been.

Hakkai seemed equally surprise. After a long bout of uncomfortable silence he murmured, "Perhaps we should sleep."

"Yeah," Gojyo agreed hastily, peeling the blankets away from the bed. He shifted so he could get beneath them. "Good idea."

Hakkai merely nodded, his hand sliding across the covers until he found the end tucked beneath his pillow. Gojyo shifted his eyes as the man crawled beneath them. Berating himself for speaking without thinking, he rubbed his eyes before stretching out on the bed.

To his surprise, he heard a gentle, "Good night," before quiet enveloped them again. Breathing a soft sigh of relief, Gojyo just nodded and settled down.

_At least,_ he thought before drifting off, _he isn't mad at me._


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: R

Pairings: mentioned Homura/Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, blood, violence, some gore

Notes: This is, quite possibly, the bloodiest chapter I have. So if you're squeamish about blood and pain... or any sort of metal being used as a weapon... you have been warned.

Thanks for the reviews! Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Two_

A root sloping up from the ground caused him to trip. Goku fell to the dirt with a loud curse, rolling over on his side as pain flared in his face. He clenched his eyes shut, making sure to wipe his hands quickly on his jeans before bringing them up to wipe the soil off his cheeks. His nose was throbbing; he figured he must have landed face-first.

Just great. Running his tongue over his lips to check for blood, Goku found dirt instead and spent the next minute gagging and spitting it out.

His mood definitely was _not_ improving. Muttering nonsensical things to himself, Goku finally picked himself off the ground. As he dusted his clothes with one hand he used the other to rub his sore nose. There was a wetness trickling from it, and dabbing the area with his finger proved it to be blood. Unfortunately, he had nothing but the clothes on his back. Goku sighed, using the hem of his shirt to wipe the blood. At least the fabric was black, so the blood wouldn't show up well.

Goku tried to remember the last time he had been so miserable. The only thing he could compare it to was his time in the cave, and that had been a different type of misery. That had been the kind swallowing his soul, making him feel alone and small in the world. This type was more of the angry breed, making him with he had someone to beat up.

His anger toward Homura had ebbed a little, but now he was also annoyed with Sanzo. He had been positive he had caught the man in a good mood, so why had he driven him off so suddenly like that? It made no sense to him.

Goku seriously wanted to hurt something. Glancing down at the pink skin of his knuckles, he decided against it. His hands weren't quite finished mending from the abuse he had unleashed on them days ago; the redness was a sign of it finally healing. The cuts and scrapes were for the most part gone.

_Damn it,_ he thought. Finally satisfied that he was as dirt-free as he could get at the moment, he continued walking. Ever since his argument with Homura he felt as though things were only getting worse and worse. They had fought verbally to the point Homura finally threatened to hurt him if he didn't leave (_Threatened to kill me is more like it!_ Goku thought angrily), and after that Goku had decided he was so fed up he wanted to get away. Again.

Which had led him to Sanzo. Again. Sighing, Goku rubbed the back of his head in annoyance. Homura had said he was in love with Konzen- well, not in so many words, but he had still implied it. While Goku could admittedly see where the casual person could get that impression, he couldn't believe that Homura was so convinced about it.

_And what was that stuff about me liking him for a long time?_ Goku huffed. It wasn't as though he'd known Konzen- Sanzo- whatever his name was- that long. They had technically only met four times, and once had been during battle. Another had been when Goku was looking for that dragon's owner (Coincidence? He wasn't positive about that) and the last two... the last two he had admittedly sought Konzen out himself.

But that didn't mean he was _in love_ with him. He barely knew the man. Goku was attracted to him, but it wasn't a sexual or romantic tugging. It was emotional, yes, some strong rope of emotion that was dragging him steadily toward the irate priest... but it had nothing to do with love.

If anything, it was because Konzen was so brilliant. Despite his cold attitude Goku felt a strange sense of warmth, almost as though he were sunbathing whenever he was in the man's presence.

Konzen was his Sun.

Even after only two serious conversations with him, Goku was certain. When he was near Konzen he didn't feel alone, didn't feel abandoned. He felt as though he had found a sort of lifelong companion- a _companion_. Not a partner. He wanted Homura to be his lifelong partner.

Homura didn't even seem to want him. Goku's anger flared again, and he kicked at a rock in his path.

Seconds later, he tripped again. This time he managed to land on his hands, scraping his palms but saving his nose from further injury. Rapidly growing irritated, Goku stood and looked for the cause of his fall.

There was nothing but dirt and grass beneath him. Frowning, Goku crouched down, pushing some of the green blades aside. There was nothing; no rocks big enough to cause him to stumble, no tree roots- nothing. He knew he hadn't tripped over himself, otherwise he would have felt at least a dull pain when he had fallen. Only his hands and knees were sore.

Goku started forward. He fell a third time.

_What the hell?_ He didn't stand up this time, just pushing himself to his knees as he wiped at his mouth furiously, the gritty feel of dirt between his teeth. He did his best to spit it out, but couldn't get rid of it entirely.

A soft voice made him start. "I expected better of you."

Growling, Goku got to his feet, turning even as he opened his mouth. "Look, I am _not_ in the mood-" He cut himself short, staring at the stranger behind him in a mixture of surprise and disbelief. It wasn't the ethereal clothing; in Konran Tower there were several gods who had come down to join Homura's "cause" so Goku was used to their odd sense of dress. Neither was it the chakra on this stranger's forehead, nor their appearance; Goku had been half expecting Homura to give him another "training" lesson via one or more of his gods. After the first surprise he had told himself to expect more things like that.

It was the fact that it wasn't a god Homura had sent, but a _goddess_.

She was turned toward him, her eyes closed and eerily reminding him of Shien. Her expression was equally solemn, but her appearance was that of a woman in her early twenties. Unlike the gods Goku had fought before her, she held no weapons.

Her lips curved into a mocking smirk, making her grave appearance immediately dissipate. "I'm sure you're surprised."

"A little," Goku said, relieved to find he hadn't forgotten how to speak. "No offense, lady, but who are you?"

"None taken," she replied. "Though I believe it was Lord Homura who taught you to give your name first."

Goku narrowed his eyes. She was right, but that didn't give her the prerogative to tell _him_ that. Besides, he was still angry at Homura and didn't want to be reminded of him.

Unfortunately, almost everything reminded him of Homura.

"Though you shouldn't bother," she continued just as he opened his mouth to reluctantly give his name. "I know who you are."

Impatient, Goku began, "Then why-"

"My name is Sumi" she interrupted, making him even more annoyed. "And my orders are to kill you."

That wasn't news to him. Grumbling, Goku held a hand out, summoning _Nyoibou_. "All right, all right. Let's just make this quick." Normally he would welcome any sort of challenge, but his bad mood had already turned him off the idea. On one hand, he could probably take some anger out in a fight. On the other... well, Goku had never fought a woman. He wasn't sure how tough to go on her... or how light. Homura had never said-

Goku shook his head violently. It was time to forget things like that. He was going to fight as he always did, regardless of what Homura had or had not taught him.

With that in mind Goku lunged forward, swinging his staff as a loud cry erupted from his chest. To his surprise the goddess didn't move to avoid the attack; it caught her square in the gut, sending her flying back. The ease in which he'd gone through her defenses made Goku pull back at the last moment; his attack didn't stab through her, but it would likely leave a nasty bruise.

Though the blow clearly hurt, Sumi picked herself up again. This time when she looked at Goku her eyes were open- and what he saw sent chills down his spine. She had no irises, no pupils. Her eyes were completely white, as though they had rolled toward the back of her head. It was disconcerting.

She placed a hand on her stomach, grimacing slightly when she did so. "Your strength is commendable," she admitted. "More than I had expected."

In attempt to shake the chills she had given him, Goku scoffed. "Yeah, yeah... you guys are all the same. You praise me, say I was more or less than you expected, then I kick your ass. Let's just skip to the ass-kicking, because I _really_ am not in the mood, lady."

A smirk touched Sumi's lips. "I am beginning to think I am more than a decent challenge for you, boy."

Bristling at the unwanted nickname, Goku said hotly, "My name isn't '_boy_.' "

"And mine isn't 'lady,' " she pointed out calmly. "Shall we continue"

Woman or not, Goku decided he didn't like her at all. Then again, ever since he'd discovered his attraction to Homura women in general had seemed less appealing.

Violently shaking his head to rid himself of that thought yet again, Goku attacked. This time the goddess dodged, though it was a very narrow miss. The force of Goku's swing was so powerful that when the blunt end of his staff grazed a portion of her ethereal clothing, it tore. It was part of the sheer covering, so it didn't do much damage to the outfit as a whole.

In avoiding his blow she teetered, seeming as though she were going to fall. Then, to his amazement, Sumi put a hand out, letting gravity do its work. She propelled herself with that hand, pushing back and landing a few yards away on her feet.

So she was an acrobat. Goku grudgingly admitted that made up for her lack of speed and strength, in a way. He knew _he_ couldn't perform a stunt like that, not without hurting himself and certainly not without some luck. Acrobatics was one thing he hoped to get a better grasp of in the future, but when he had first begun fighting he hadn't seen it as an immediately important skill to learn.

Homura must have remembered his saying that. Perhaps that was one reason why he had sent Sumi; she had one advantage over him. But then again, it was only the one. Goku was positive he could win this fight.

When he looked at Sumi again she was smirking. That combined with her all-white eyes only served to creep him out- and piss him off for letting her get to him like that. Tightening his grip on the staff, Goku darted forward with another battle cry.

In mid-launch he felt a sudden sharp sting spread across his torso. Taken by surprise, he fell off-balance and hit the dirt. That tore an agonized shriek from him. Quickly rolling over to his side, Goku chanced a look down and saw that something had torn his shirt open. He was bleeding, and some dirt had been pushed into the shallow but still painful cut. Swearing violently, he used the lower half of his now-ripped shirt to clean the wound the best he could. It still stung badly. He had to bite his tongue to choke back other cries.

What in the _world_ had done that? He raised his eyes to Sumi, a low, murderous growl rising in his throat.

Not seeming phased, she said, "Having problems?"

"Like hell I am," Goku spat. He started to charge a second time, but once again felt the familiar sting. This time it was in his leg and he fell over, thankfully with the cut in the air and not toward the ground. Hissing, Goku clutched at the wound, giving the goddess a bewildered, angry look. _What is she _doing he screamed inwardly.

"Good," she replied, smiling deviously. "Then we can continue." This time Goku saw her flick her wrist before he experienced the pain again. As usual he didn't know which way it was coming from, nor which direction to dodge, so he kept still and grit his teeth when she made another shallow, stinging cut. This one was across his cheek, and to his horror was a little deeper than the others. Blood gushed freely, and Goku hurriedly tried to stave the flow.

What was this woman doing?

It must have been the lighting the fourth time around. When Sumi's wrist flickered again, Goku caught a quick gleam from the corner of his eye. On instinct he dove forward, and this time no additional stings came.

However, his dive cost him more than staying still would have. Goku tripped over the mysterious force again, this time hard enough to knock the wind out of him. The sudden loss of air made him want to scream, but for a moment he couldn't remember how to breathe. His scream was inward. He felt the blood drain from his face; the cut on his cheek flowed less eagerly.

"Lord Homura may have trained you well for battle," Sumi was saying. "But Lord Shien did not do as well in tactical instruction- either that or you are a hopeless idiot."

Her remark suddenly helped Goku find the breath to snarl. Furious, he picked himself up, retrieving his fallen weapon. "You'll be thinking differently after I kill you."

At that she arched an eyebrow. "Wasn't it you who said I was acting like a typical enemy? It seems desperation makes you pathetic."

The insult made Goku's cheeks flush again. His brow drawn, he let out an outraged scream and moved forward. Sumi's expression didn't change; she raised both hands in a dramatic gesture, suddenly flinging them out. This time multiple cuts knocked Goku backwards again. He would have been stunned if it hadn't been for the sudden deep cut in his back; he didn't land completely on the ground, instead partially suspended in the air. Eyes widening, Goku's vocal cords suddenly clamped shut. He couldn't scream, but the pain was _excruciating_.

His arms moved faster than he could think, hands planting themselves in the ground as he pushed himself up and away from whatever had sliced into him. His skin suddenly hypersensitive due to all the injuries inflicted on him, Goku looked over his shoulder. There was a thin line of dripping blood six inches off the ground.

No, he realized. Not a mere line.

Wire.

"You've discovered it too late," Sumi said in front of him. Shuddering, Goku forced himself to his feet, glaring hateful daggers at the woman. She met his anger with conceit. "By now I have rigged wires all over the area. You'll have a difficult time finding them in this dim lighting- and, as you can see, falling can be quite dangerous." A bloodthirsty grin touched her lips. "If I had pulled on that wire, it could have gone right through you."

She wasn't joking. When he had fallen the wire had given a little under his weight, which meant it hadn't been pulled taut. It had been fairly lax, so as not to cause him serious harm unless she wanted. This was a serious situation, and Goku finally noticed that he was at a severe disadvantage.

_Like hell I'll let that stop me!_ Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Goku found no blood. Still, he tasted it on his tongue, so he spat it out before narrowing his eyes at the goddess. His best bet was long range combat. While he didn't have the most effective tool for that, _Nyoibou_ would still be adequate enough.

He changed his stance, pushing his left foot out in front of him before falling into a half-crouch. Aiming the staff at Sumi's face, he yelled, "Longer, _Nyoibou!_"

Obeying its wielder, the staff abruptly shot out toward Sumi's face. Goku was sure she wouldn't be able to dodge it without taking some damage, so even if she used her wires she would not be able to stop the attack.

Or at least, it should have been that way. To Goku's horror, all she did was twitch a finger and then his _Nyoibou_ suddenly fell to pieces. The extension from his left palm outward had been cut to multiple fragments.

That told him how much wire she had out, and it was far from good. Making a frustrated noise, Goku let go of his weapon. At his silent will it faded from sight. On theory he should have been able to summon _Nyoibou_ back in one piece, but past experimentations told him it would take at least half a day for it to mend itself from any damage. How it "healed" itself Goku wasn't sure, but he thought it might have something to do with it being a celestial weapon.

Some good it had done him. It couldn't even stand up to wire.

As though sensing his thought, Sumi lifted her hands. Brief patches of sunlight made the wire wound around her fingers glimmer. Calmly, she said, "You may have a heavenly weapon, but so do I. You forget; I am a goddess."

Admittedly, Goku _had_ forgotten. Now he had to find another way to defeat her. He was _not_ about to let himself lose- not here, not to her, and not at this point in time. There was too much he had to do, too much he had to say... too many people he wanted to yell at, and yet only one he also wanted to cling to without ever letting go.

_I can't lose,_ he told himself firmly. _Not until I settle things with Homura._

It was weird, he thought absently beneath that determination, how inane one's thoughts could be in the face of defeat or death. He had a sinking feeling that in this case, defeat led to death. He couldn't allow that.

"Though there _is_ something else about you I must admire," Sumi suddenly said, seeming thoughtful. She even tapped her chin lightly for emphasis. "Your pain tolerance is very high."

Goku flinched, cursing her for mentioning that. It wasn't so much that his tolerance was high as it was that he had the ability to shove the idea of pain into the back of his mind. It was a self-taught technique, something he had found useful in battle. The less he thought about his injuries, the better he could fight- though in some cases it had gotten him in trouble, like the time Konzen had shot his hand.

Now that she had reminded him of the condition of his body Goku suddenly felt weaker. He wanted to shout curses at her, but all he could do was make a strangled noise and fall to his knees. The multiple slices all over his body flared to life, and he had to bite his tongue to force back a scream.

There was a sound similar to a whip snapping - training with Shien had gotten him very familiar with the noise - and suddenly his entire left arm felt as though it were on pins and needles. Goku gave a sharp, startled cry when it was jerked off the ground. Blood spurted from the limb; Sumi had somehow wrapped wires around his arm and was moving it as though he were a puppet. A living, breathing puppet, whose very resistance to its master caused pain and a lot of blood loss. His clothes hung in tatters off his frame, undeniable proof of the master's abuse.

"Weak," he heard her murmur. "Too weak to fulfill Lord Homura's dreams... and all because he chooses to limit his power."

_Limit... my power?_ His thought was cut short as she gave another vicious tug, tearing second scream from him. The wire was cutting deeper into his arm, the blood gushing out so rapidly every inch of his skin seemed to be bathed in thick crimson. The stench of copper was so strong it made Goku gag. He felt heady, trembling from blood loss at the same time his ears pounded with sudden intensity. There was an acute presence in the back of his mind- no, an acute _awakening_. It was like a beast had finally risen from hibernation and was clawing at the back of his mind, demanding to be let out.

Was that what he was "limiting?" If so, how was he supposed to let it out? Goku whimpered, moving to stand to help loosen the biting hold on his arm. The movement proved to be yet another mistake; Sumi flipped her hand, and when Goku rose to his feet another wire pressed down on his shoulder. He shrieked and quickly crouched down again to keep the cut from going deeper, though moving down meant the wire bit into his arm more fiercely.

His vision began to swim, things blurring before his eyes. It was almost like crying, only without the accompanied sting and hot wetness. Head pounding, feeling heavy with the weight of the imaginary "beast" within him, a small whimper worked its way from Goku's throat as he nearly fell forward.

Sumi gave another tug.

This time Goku couldn't scream, _couldn't_, because the agony and rawness of wire scraping across his bones was too horrible to voice, even wordlessly. His throat stuck, eyes widening to the point his irises were nearly lost in twin oblivions of white.

Gods, it _hurt_. It hurt, and it made him so furious. He couldn't think of Sumi as a woman anymore, nor a goddess. In his mind she was a bitch that deserved to _die_. And he was going to kill her no matter what it took.

Sumi didn't seem about ready to allow this. While the wires on his arm loosened that didn't fall loose, as though she were going to keep them ready to snip his arm to pieces any moment. He remembered how she had done it with his staff and knew a simple, vicious tug on his arm would be enough to do the same to him.

Then suddenly Goku found his other hand jerking into the air. He gurgled a protest, unable to make any other sound, even when he felt wires wrap around each finger individually. She pulled them taut, and Goku bit his lip. For the first time he could remember, he was genuinely afraid- and had a good idea how this battle was about to end up.

"I'll rip you to pieces," Sumi said, an expression of the utmost calm on her features. "Starting with your fingers. Fingers that have touched Lord Homura in ways they shouldn't have. Fingers that don't deserve to graze the floor he walks upon, much less his body."

Goku would have flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment if he'd had any blood left to. As it was he could only clench his eyes shut. He found his wire-cut arm shook horribly, but he could still move it. And he did- slowly.

The wires pinched his fingers. Slowly the skin broke, and fresh blood dribbled down Goku's hand. He cringed, hearing small, animalistic sounds of agony. It took him a few moments to realize they were his. Something cold brushed against the nape of his neck, and then Goku felt a thin, strangling pressure all around his throat. He gasped, the air drawn in ragged and thin. He could taste blood rising from his throat as she slowly began to strangle him.

The wire embedded in his smallest finger met bone.

With a sudden, vicious cry, Goku put his hand to the bronze coronet. His arm throbbed with pain, and Sumi was already tightening the wires on it again. But he had hoped for that, and the tug did what his weakened muscles could not have done.

The limiter slid free.


	23. Chapter TwentyThree

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Homura/Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, some blood, language, shounen ai

Notes: Thanks for the reviews. I was pretty amused tosee people feel squeamish about the last chapter... but then, if I hadn't written it, I might be, too. But I'm glad I got that reaction; it lets me know I'm going a good job with that. So again: thank you.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Three_

He felt... oddly clean. And exhausted. Blinking, Goku let out a small groan before he sat up, cringing as putting weight on his right arm nearly made him fall back again. He managed to stay sitting, and when the throbbing behind his eyes finally faded to a tolerable level he was able to realize that his surroundings weren't what they should have been. He clearly remembered a forest, as well as a lot of blood and pain.

He was definitely been fighting last he recalled. How had he gotten here?

The blankets pooling in his lap were thin, but adequate for the mildly cool room. He glanced down, noting that their faded brown fabric matched the rest of the room's design well. The bed he was in looked to be a twin size, the posts and frame made of oak. A nightstand beside him matched the bed, as did the small dresser on the wall opposite of where he currently sat. The floorboards were of a darker wood Goku didn't immediately recognize.

The room was dark, but a sliver of sunlight slanted across his legs. Looking up, Goku noted the plaid curtains were pulled shut tightly, as though whoever had brought him here intended to let him get as much sleep as possible. Someone _had_ to have brought him to this place; with his injuries he knew there was no way he could have made it to a town on his own.

But he didn't remember anyone bringing him. A small frown touched the boy's lips. Closing his eyes, he tried to conjure up the last thing he had seen. In his mind's eye he saw lush green trees, dim lighting, and a young woman manipulating wires with wicked skill. He remembered she had introduced herself as Sumi. He also knew she was the one who had caused all his injuries.

After pulling off his limiter he could recollect nothing but blind fury. There were no images to tell him who had come out the victor, though the fact he was alive seemed to be a good indicator on that. He opened his eyes again, looking down at his arm. It had been bandaged tightly; only the slightest bit of red had seeped through, so his wounds must have been tended to thoroughly. He was wearing fresh clothes, the torn fabric nowhere in sight. All the dirt he had accumulated from tripping and his battle with the goddess seemed to have been scrubbed off, though there were faint smudge marks here and there, as though whoever had cleaned him up had been wary of waking him.

His left hand had been bandaged as well, from the wrist to the middle knuckles of each finger. When he reached up he felt a coarse bandage on his cheek, and further inspection proved that every injury had been tended to. There was cloth wound several times around his leg; his entire torso from the waist to over his left shoulder was bound tightly. He felt almost mummified.

Glancing around a second time, Goku noticed something he had somehow missed before. On the nightstand there was a glass of water - it seemed fresh, since the glass was still cool when he brushed his fingers against it - and a small slip of paper. Realizing he was thirsty, Goku went for the water first, draining the contents eagerly. His throat eased the tightness he hadn't realized was there, and he felt even more refreshed. He quickly learned that grabbing for the glass hadn't been a good idea, though; he cringed when his shoulder throbbed in retaliation for the movement.

Then his attention returned to the paper. Slowly he set down the empty glass, picking up the parchment. He fumbled a little because of the bandages hindering his fingers, but otherwise had no difficulty picking it up.

It was a note, he realized. Squinting, Goku struggled to read the words. He hadn't read often, though he knew that somewhere he had learned how to. It didn't take long for him to get used to the scrawled words, but the brief struggle and quick adaptation made him wonder exactly where he had learned this skill.

_'Grab some breakfast downstairs. The room has already been paid for. There is money in the drawer. Try to spend it sparingly.'_

There was no signature, no indication as to who had written it, but Goku had a distinct feeling it was someone he knew back at the tower. He sighed, the note fluttering to his lap as he reached up with his good hand to rub his forehead. He didn't really want to go back to Konran Tower, but knew that he didn't have anywhere else to go, nor anything else to do.

He supposed the first thing he should have done was take a bath. Gingerly getting out of bed, Goku flinched when he had to put weight on his feet. He felt dizzy as well, as though he'd stood too fast even though he had moved pretty slowly. However, the pain was bearable and the dizziness passed, so he padded awkwardly into the small adjoining bathroom. There were two thick towels at the sink and a bathtub just big enough for him to relax in. He carefully started the hot water, and then set to slowly removing his clothes and bandages.

The extent of the damage made him cringe. Removing the bandages tore some scabs up, causing fresh blood to trickle down his body. It wasn't flowing as eagerly as it was during battle, but still fast enough to make him nervous. Goku hastily applied the bandages to the worst spots, waiting for the oozing crimson to stave off. By the time he was satisfied he wasn't going to bleed to death the water in the tub was nearly filled to the brim. Giving a small yelp, Goku quickly turned it off, cursing when that opened his shoulder wound yet again.

Five minutes later he managed to settle into the hot water without reopening anything serious. He flinched when the liquid stung his cuts, but gradually grew used to the pain. It hurt even worse when he tried to lean back against the side of the tub to relax, and suddenly pink was seeping into the water. He immediately decided that relaxation was not a wise choice at the moment, and picked up the soap with his uninjured hand.

It was certainly quite the task to wash himself. One arm had cuts as deep as the bone, which made moving it difficult and very painful. However, the hand on the opposite arm also suffered damage from the wires. In the end he used his good arm to guide his good hand. It was a very awkward, painful bath, with a lot of bloodied water sloshing out. As he slowly scrubbed himself Goku noticed a bruise under his ribs that he hadn't seen before. It hurt to touch, and it made him wonder how he'd gotten it. When he had been fighting Sumi she hadn't landed a hit on him; all she'd done was cut him up. A lot. But the bruise looked as though it had been made by a strong person, by a punch, even. Sumi had seemed physically weak, apt only with her weapon, so he knew she couldn't have done it. But then... who had?

By the time the bath's contents were soapy and pink from his use it was also cold. Goku fumbled for the plug beneath the water, finally pulling it and watching the sudsy fluids drain. He sat there for a while, shivering and trying to summon the energy to stand and dry himself. He wondered how he would have to go about that, then decided pat-drying would be the least painful. Or rather, drip-drying would be, but by then they wouldn't be serving breakfast anymore.

The towels, of course, got bloody as well, but he didn't bleed as profusely as the first few times, and without the water to keep his wounds open he was soon feeling up to limping back into the room. He was grateful for the foresight of whoever had dropped him off in closing the curtains. His hair still dripping (as he didn't dare try opening his shoulder again to dry it) and still naked from his bath, he opened the small drawer of the nightstand. To his surprise he saw rolls of fresh bandages there- apparently his rescuer had known he was going to remove his other bandages for some reason. Now he was positive it was someone back at Konran Tower.

He didn't dare let himself think it was Homura, even though it seemed the most likely.

Nearly an hour later he had his wounds successfully bandaged again. The towels had been abandoned in the bathroom, along with his new clothes. Goku hobbled back to grab the clothes, deciding to leave the towels. Hopefully the room service had some idea of his condition; otherwise someone was going to scream when the towels were picked up. Once he had carefully redressed he went back to retrieve the money.

Counting the bills quickly, Goku sincerely doubted it would be enough for even one meal. He knew he had an appetite that could put any bigger man to shame; once he had overheard Shien remark that it might have been because he had been locked up for five hundred years and thus his body was trying to regain all it had lost in those years. Goku thought it was a weird assumption and that it made little sense, but he had decided to just use that as an excuse anyway.

He would just have to be careful. His stomach rumbling, Goku managed to find a pair of boots - these looked oddly new, which puzzled him since he could remember his old boots hadn't been damaged in the fight. His stomach decided to protest again, and Goku quickly dismissed the information as unimportant. After pushing his feet into the boots he walked around a little, getting used to the new sensation before he opened the bedroom door and staggered down the stairs, into the dining area.

He received some odd stares for his appearance, but Goku did his best to ignore them. Tentatively taking a seat at one of the smaller tables, Goku fumbled with the menu with his bad hand for a moment. After a brief but frustrating struggle Goku managed to flip it open. He let his bandaged arm rest beside the paper so he could flip the pages easier. For some reason he felt unusually solemn- moody, but not cranky. Goku blinked, trying to search for the right word to summon up his mood, and when he failed he turned his attention back to the menu.

The whispering didn't get to him at first, but his ears couldn't help but prick up at the mention of "that boy." Goku glanced around; there were few children in the diner, and only one other person aside from him somebody would consider a boy. He tried to shrug it off, but his sensitive hearing still caught bits and pieces of conversation that made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

"Those marks..."

"Yes, no human could..."

Blinking, Goku slowly lifted his uninjured arm. The pads of his fingers lightly grazed over thin scab lines that wound as many as four times around his neck. He flinched; he hadn't thought to cover those with the bandages again. While his clothes had been replaced, they were simple jeans and a t-shirt, not the flame-stitched pants and half-mesh shirt he had worn before. The collar of the shirt didn't come up to his neck- naturally people could see the glaring red marks.

"May I get you anything to drink?"

The voice, closer than the murmurs, startled him. Goku looked up sheepishly, absently rubbing his throat. Moving his head slightly didn't seem to reopened the wounds. "Ah... Yeah, actually. Milk. In one of those big glasses."

The waitress nodded, her eyes flickering between her writing pad and his face. She did it so often that Goku became wary, though he decided to pretend not to notice at the moment.

"All right," she finally said. "And have you decided what you'd like?"

Goku thumbed the menu again, turning his gaze down to it. Suddenly he didn't feel as hungry as he had earlier. The whispers were making him uncomfortable and he wanted to get out of there. Unfortunately, he knew he would be kicking himself later if he didn't eat at least something now.

On the bright side, his sudden decrease in appetite was sure to help him use the money "sparingly" as the note had advised him to.

In the end he only ordered three family breakfasts, which made the waitress' eyes widen but her jaw didn't drop as it would have if he'd been up to his normal appetite. Stuttering, she gave her thanks, took his menu, and quickly scampered off. Goku hardly paid her any attention. He was too busy trying to ignore the talking around him.

To distract himself, he thought back on the fight. The bruise under his ribs still mystified him, but now that he was more awake and aware he was beginning to get an idea of what might have done it. While he couldn't recall what had happened once his limiter had come off, he was still sure he had won the battle. The scent had been there, though faint, when he had awoken- he had spilled blood. Ir had been a different, unfamiliar smell, one that was faintly metallic but sang of life. That was what all blood had in common to him, and considering he was alive and breathing right then, it must have meant he had killed Sumi.

But if he had killed her, who had stopped and brought him here? Even without reaching up Goku felt the familiar weight of the diadem on his head; someone had to have replaced it, possibly after he had somehow won a battle he couldn't remember. Thinking back on the note, Goku could safely eliminate Zenon. The man wouldn't have been nearly so polite in his writing. Hell, he probably would have even gone so far as to stay there until the boy woke up so he could give him a good verbal and possibly physical beating. Shien was a possibility, but Goku had a difficult time believing he would save him for any reason. The last option he knew of had to be Homura- but after their fight, he was even beginning to doubt that as well. Besides, why would Homura have followed him? They had been arguing loudly, horribly, and Homura had clearly been in the mood to be alone. Goku's absence should have eased the weight on him, should have given more room to think, if that was what he had needed.

So either way, Shien and Homura were both the most and least likely. The complexity of the situation made Goku want to kick something.

"He has golden eyes."

"Shh!"

The statement had been loud, and it made Goku stiffen. He knew for a fact golden eyes weren't exactly rare, and the further west one traveled the more townspeople seemed to know any and everything about demons. While many had misconceptions - it was impossible to escape those - some still had their basic facts and rumors down.

Homura had explained it to him once; that golden eyes were a sign of heresy. It was mainly something the gods dealt with, so word about heretics hadn't been spread as far in the lower world. However, rumors had to start somehow and somewhere. Some humans treated the golden eyes as a legend, not to be believed, while others took it far more seriously. Most towns Homura had taken him to had seemed oblivious to the sign of golden eyes, almost as though someone had made sure they would go through with as little incident as possible.

It seemed this was one of the towns Homura had purposefully avoided.

_I'm not that different,_ Goku tried to tell himself, even as he was thinking how different he really was. He bore the golden eyes of a heretic, was infinitely stronger than most humans could ever dream to be. Most mortals couldn't summon a weapon to their hands no matter how hard they tried, and he had learned to do it with ease. As the humans around him were noting, most people would have been killed after having as many injuries inflicted upon them as he had experienced. He even had to wear a limiter to pass off as human- he knew that much about it, even if his other appearance was still a mystery to him.

With a start, Goku realized that the other appearance was very likely the strange "beast" he had felt in his head yesterday. The idea made him nauseas. He didn't want to be a monster, some sort of mindless killing machine. Monsters killed without regret, even people they loved and cared about. If he ever slipped and accidentally killed someone he cared about...

His dream of what Homura had deemed a sacrifice ritual somehow came to mind. Closing his eyes, Goku could see it almost as vividly as he had when dreaming- and that was unnerving. Most of his dreams would fade over a few hours time, sometimes even a few minutes, regardless of whether it had been good or bad. Yet this one he remembered with startling detail.

In fact he could even _feel_ it; the tiled floor beneath his body, the coldness under him... he could see the writhing energy swirling and twisting over his head, shifting colors and shapes so rapidly it made him dizzy. The candles flickered around him. He felt that familiar presence, the one he couldn't put his finger on. Gold flashed behind his eyes, and he shivered.

Opening his eyes, he found people staring at him again. Attempting to pretend nothing was wrong, Goku tapped the table with feigned impatience. While he was beginning to feel fidgety, it didn't equate to his irritability in waiting for food.

The glimmer of gold from his dream bothered him. The memory gnawed at his insides restlessly, trying to tear a hole out through his back. Thinking too hard made the image fade. Within minutes Goku found himself sitting alone, frustrated, and simply bone-tired of everything that had happened within the past week.

Right then all he wanted to do was return to Konran Tower and do whatever it would take to make Homura forgive him. Staying angry at him was making Goku miserable, and he hated that. It made him less hungry, made him unable to focus on things he would normally notice, like the taste of good food, the delicious (and sometimes distasteful) odors around him, and the feel of someone's touch against his skin.

Resting his forehead in his good hand, Goku had to admit that he just wanted to go back to the tower - to go _home_ - and curl up. On the bed. Preferably with Homura beside him, either sitting next to him and rubbing his back or actually lying next to him, his chin resting lightly on Goku's head as he did when they slept together.

_I'm so tired,_ he thought, rubbing his eyes. He winced when the movement hurt his arm.

It took a while for the food to get to his table, but Goku had expected that. The first time Homura had taken him to a restaurant he had been immensely impatient (and had complained of hunger until Zenon shoved him out of his seat). Shien had somehow ended up being saddled with the responsibility to explain how things worked to him. (Goku suspected it wasn't because of Shien's incredible patience, but because when Zenon tried he had ended up boxing the boy's ears in out of frustration and Homura had been struggling not to burst out laughing.)

The whispers had finally died down, much to Goku's relief. That meant he could easily focus on his thoughts more- but upon attempting it he found all he could think about was taking a nice, long nap after making up with Homura.

He was childish, but Goku wasn't foolish enough to believe that all he needed in life was Homura. The man certainly meant a lot to him, enough for Goku to become jealous over him, but he wasn't _everything_. Goku also needed adventure, craved for challenges, and desperately wanted his Sun. It was a hard decision, actually... thinking about choosing between the man he loved and the Sun he needed to thrive in everything he did was so hard.

_If only they could be one person,_ Goku thought wearily.

The scent of well-cooked pork reached his nose. Goku bit at his lower lip, trying not to squirm in his seat as plate after plate was set out before him. He barely even heard the waitress' terse thanks before she hurried off, moving to grab his chopsticks.

Like bathing, breakfast was an awkward and frustrating affair. It didn't take long before Goku decided to go the same route he had during his bath; he held the chopsticks in his good hand, using his good arm to guide it around. Picking things up with the chopsticks was difficult, since moving his thumb disturbed some of the wounds closer to his wrist. Where he had been able to shovel food into his mouth, Goku now had to move his hand inch by inch.

A sudden slam made him drop his utensils. Goku growled in frustration as they clattered to the floor; he really wanted to avoid leaning over if he could. The last thing he needed was blood staining the back of his shirt in a room full of so many people eating.

"I'm talking to the manager. We can't eat like this!"

"Good for you," Goku grumbled beneath his breath, trying to think of a way he could pick up his chopsticks without tearing open his wounds. His safest bet was to grip the edge of his seat with his bad hand; that way he could lean over and, at worse, hopefully only the slashes on his fingers would split again.

He started to do so, and an angry man's voice met his ears. He vaguely connected it to the voice that had startled him in the first place, and from that Goku merely grew annoyed.

"How can you allow him in here with us?"

Goku stiffened, having a sick feeling about who the man was shouting about. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to calm himself before he tried to grab his chopsticks again.

"Sir, he _is_ a paying customer-"

"I don't care how well he paid you! He's a demon- a _heretic_. Who knows how long it will be before he snaps like the rest of them bloodthirsty animals?"

Goku's eyes briefly flickered up and he caught sight of a red-faced man bellowing at a sturdy, middle-aged man who seemed to be the innkeeper.

The innkeeper shot Goku a nervous glance before he spoke again, his voice surprisingly reedy and thin for his stature. "While I understand your concern, I have been given the utmost assurance-"

"That he's an okay person?" The man was sneering now. "You say that after he waltzes in sporting those sort of injuries? I saw how he came in last night, carried by that man! He was bathed in blood, too much of it to be his own."

That did it. Goku's lips thinned as he gave up trying to retrieve his means of eating breakfast. With a grunt he righted himself. Not wanting everything to go to waste, he took a deep drink of his milk, not leaving anything but dregs before he pushed himself to his feet and hobbled over to the arguing men.

"How much?" he asked, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice. His presence made the customer jump, but the innkeeper merely blinked. "For the food and bed... how much?"

As though sensing he didn't want to cause a scene, the thin-voiced man gave him a sum. Goku pulled some bills out; they were slightly crumpled from his sitting down while they were in his pocket. Knowing the innkeeper was merely estimating, as he couldn't have known exactly how much Goku's total came to off the top of his head, Goku shoved more than was needed at him. There was enough left over for a small meal in the next town he came to.

Without bothering to give his thanks, Goku turned and exited the diner. He stumbled near the front door, just barely managing to catch himself. The wound on his calf ripped open despite his catch, and he flinched. Determinedly trying to ignore it, Goku stumbled on outside.

He didn't want to attract any more attention than he already had. As he limped toward the edges of town, Goku determinedly kept his eyes lowered. _I'm not that different,_ he tried to think. It was difficult to repeat it over and over, even in his head. While he wasn't exactly above it, Goku still didn't like lying very much.

His journey back was going to be hell. He could only pray that he wouldn't come across anyone determined to fight him; in his condition, Goku wasn't sure he could handle it. Not that he would turn down a fight should one turn up- he was just tired, sore, and dizzy enough to realize he wouldn't stand a chance against enemies he had considered fairly easy before today. And he hated Sumi for that.

Considering the distance he had been from the tower upon meeting Sumi, Goku assumed that his journey back would still take a few days; possibly longer if whoever had rescued him had taken him for a town further away.

That was why it startled him when he looked up a few hours later. The sun was beginning to dip into the west, indicating it was early evening and high time he had something to eat. Goku was briefly wondering if he could make what money he had left last long enough. Then, finally raising his eyes from the dirt road, his wounds throbbing with pain and muscles aching, he saw Konran Tower.

Goku nearly collapsed in relief, weariness allowing his eyes to sting easier than they normally would have. He managed to stay on his feet, but couldn't fight the exhausted tears sliding down his cheek.

_Thank gods... I'm home._


	24. Chapter TwentyFour

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Homura/Goku, mentioned Homura/Rinrei

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, violence

Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Next weekend, there may not be an update, depending on if the sidefic/interlude I recently wrote will end up within the fic itself or as a seperate story. This is just a heads-up, since the interlude will take place right after this chapter.

(Also, a quick note to yoong: I don't believe Goku would beg for forgiveness, either. Totally not like him. That's what this chapter is for, though.)

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Four_

He should not have let the fight go that far.

That was the only thing Homura could think as he attempted to practice his swordsmanship that evening. His work was unusually sloppy, he knew it, it was distracting, and that annoyed him more than anything else. He knew it would have been better to stop before he frustrated himself beyond belief, but if he didn't practice the tension was still going to build. At least moving about would even out his frustration a little.

Even with his eyes open he could picture yesterday's events in his mind. He could see the two figures, their forms shrouded by the window-frame of leaves around him. Most clearly he could see Son Goku, fighting and losing against the goddess Homura had sent to battle him. It was part of the boy's training; he wasn't useful to Homura when he was this weak. True, he wasn't exactly _useless_, but his strength still wasn't enough for what he needed- even now, after the encounter.

Sumi had been the perfect person to send after the boy. Homura had done a little research into her background - she was a goddess who had fled to the lower world to join him for his cause, and such checks were necessary to ensure she wasn't a spy - and he had discovered she had been very apt with wires. How she had learned such a skill from the heavens he didn't know, nor did he ask. It was likely she had somehow received lessons from someone in the lower world. Whatever the case, she had been very efficient with her weapon. She had displayed her talents several times, such as attacking the boy in a shaded area so he wouldn't catch the glint of wires as well, and by slipping wire loosely around the boy's shoulders so that when she had tightened it only a small lock of hair had been cut.

Once Sumi had threatened to rip the boy's fingers off one at a time Homura had decided to intervene. Quietly, he had slipped out from his hiding place. Not quite in view yet, he had slinked forward... and then the boy's next movement had made him freeze.

There had been a glimmer of bronze as screened sunlight bounced off Son Goku's limiter. The diadem had fallen to the ground with a dull _thunk_, and the boy had shuddered violently. His scream had been loud and piercing, the agony touched by mental rather than physical torment. From the corner of his eye he had noted that even Sumi had paused, staring with wide, white eyes as the boy transformed.

When Homura had seen the golden eyes again, the pupils were narrowed into slits. With ease Goku had been unable to manage, this devilish monstrosity had raised the arm Sumi had ensnared in several feet of wire. A hauntingly beautiful, malicious smile had curved the new creature's lips as his fingernails seemed to sharpen into claws. He had raised his newfound weapon to his throat, slowly and deliberately snapping each wire tightly wound around him as though it were thread. Blood still poured in rivers down his arm, but this animal didn't seem to care, though he did notice. Eyes taken off Sumi for a brief moment, the creature raised his arm, the muscles Sumi hadn't cut through yet tensing- and the wire had snapped in several places, falling to the ground.

Calmly, this animal had brought the bleeding limb to his face, seductively drawing his tongue over the crimson liquid spilling out of his own body. He hadn't seemed to care that it was his own blood, that normally he preferred the taste of others'. Perhaps, to this creature, blood was simply blood, and it was all delicious and mesmerizing.

_Seiten Taisei Son Goku,_ Homura had thought, mouthing the words without uttering a sound. The name alone sent shivers of delectable anticipation down his spine. Every time he thought it, each time he spoke it aloud, Homura couldn't help but grow excited at the mere mention of this glorious creature's name.

This was a true heretic. Seiten Taisei, though younger than he, was the real representation of all heretics. Like him, Seiten Taisei had been wronged and trapped in the heavens merely for being born. Homura empathized with this being; he had ever since the day he had seen him. Seiten Taisei was the ultimate killing machine, graceful as a feline, cleverer than any fox, and with all the rippling, lean muscles any powerful animal possessed. He was a malicious form of breathing, flowing poetry. That was how Homura saw him- had still seen him, even as beaten and slashed as the creature had been.

That was why, despite Sumi's loud cries of torment, Homura had stood quietly as Seiten Taisei had proceeded to rip apart his enemy. Anyone that harmed him died, as was the law of nature. Seiten Taisei thought himself the king of nature, the legitimate ruler of all things living. In a way, he wasn't wrong; after all, he _was_ the direct child of the earth.

Seiten Taisei's play had seemed even crueler than usual. While it hadn't been enough to make Homura flinch - as he had seen many things in his day - it had still struck him as odd. In the heavens Seiten Taisei had wreaked as much havoc as anyone could have imagined- tearing out eyes, clawing up faces behind recognition, biting off limbs, ripping flesh and cords of muscle from any god that had been in his way. What he had done to this particular goddess was far worse, as most gods in the heavens who had been unfortunate enough to be in the same room during Seiten Taisei's rampage had only suffered one or two of his attacks.

Sumi had endured numerous. Seiten Taisei had left her intact long enough for her screams to become hoarse and useless, and then he had ripped the veins in her neck free. She had strangled, choking on her own blood until she had fallen. But even with her twitching, defenseless corpse, Seiten Taisei hadn't stopped. Homura hadn't dared to step in until nothing was left of the goddess but bones and some strips of flesh and muscle.

It had been a gruesome sight. Still Homura hadn't been nauseated. Instead, he had simply stepped forward, purposefully breaking a twig beneath his shoe. The demon had whirled to face him, narrowing his eyes at the man- and in those catlike eyes Homura had seen such hate and anger that it had made him breathless. It hadn't been general fury; Homura had known - still knew - that it had been directed at _him_.

That had led him to believe that perhaps there was more to Seiten Taisei than just a killing machine. Maybe there was a Son Goku within the demon, just as there was a demon within the Son Goku. The thought made Homura's chest tighten in memory, and he startled himself out of his reminiscing when his sword slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor.

When he looked up he was surprised to see the two figures in the doorway. The sight of Zenon didn't make him jump as much as the boy in front of him. Goku's eyes were diverted; he was standing gingerly because of his injuries. From the extent of them Homura knew the boy should have bled on his way back to the tower. It seemed Zenon had wrapped them up again.

In a rare moment in which he could sense the tension without anyone's help, Zenon simply gave Goku's uninjured shoulder a light pat. He paused to give Homura a nod before turning and leaving again.

After a while Goku finally spoke. "Hey..." Still he didn't look at the man. Homura nodded slightly, having nothing adequate to say to that. The silence stretched on a few moments longer.

At last Goku took a faltering step forward. "That goddess... I know you sent her."

He had expected no less. In a voice no more audible than a murmur, though it seemed a lot louder to him, Homura said, "You did well in defeating her."

Golden eyes finally met his, if only briefly. Goku shrugged his good shoulder, taking another step forward. His words seemed almost forced. "It wasn't me who defeated her... was it?"

So he was semi-conscious of his demonic self. Feeling it was best not to try to futilely hide anything, Homura nodded.

When Goku raised his gaze again he was able to keep eye contact for more than a few seconds. "We need to talk."

Homura would have replied, but the boy chose that moment to pitch forward without warning and crumple to the floor.

-

When he woke, the first thing Goku noticed was that things were so dark. It took him a few minutes to realize it was because his eyes were closed. Slowly he pried them open. The first thing he saw was a gently sloping ceiling, dark even with the candlelight flickering in the room. He recognized this ceiling and knew where he was.

Goku began to push himself into a sitting position. Doing so made him feel as though his side and back were being torn open at the same time, and he clenched his eyes against the pain. A split second later there were familiar, strong hands helping him sit up completely. Goku was familiar with the scent of the person helping him, and so did nothing to retaliate. He couldn't have, anyway.

Clenching the sheets in one hand, he asked quietly, "How long was I...?"

"A couple hours," Homura replied easily, taking a seat at the end of the bed. "Not as long as you were last night."

Goku knew the man was admitting to his being there when he had fought Sumi. Nodding, he lowered his eyes to his fingers, momentarily fascinated with the way the rumpled sheets in his lap caused shadows to dip between the crevices.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Drawing in a shuddering breath that did little to calm his nerves, Goku said, "Tell me about Rinrei."

-

He shouldn't have been pacing. Homura had told the boy several times to sit down, and the first two or three times Goku had obeyed. However, almost immediately after the man had begun talking again Goku had been back on his feet, wearing a hole in the floor. Exasperated, Homura had finally given up and had decided to simply keep a close eye on the brunette. Goku had lost a lot of blood in the past twenty-four hours, and Homura doubted the boy realized the full extent of his critical situation.

Then again, Goku hadn't fainted again just yet. Perhaps he had more stamina than Homura tended to give him credit for. The ironic thing was, Homura had already believed Goku's resilience was very high.

Finally breaking the silence, Homura said in a low tone, "You haven't said anything for nearly ten minutes."

"Well," Goku muttered in strained tone that immediately set Homura on the defensive edge. "I'm trying to think of a way to say what I'm thinking without you having another hissy fit."

Homura blinked, positive he hadn't been _quite_ that bad, but he decided to let it slide since in this case Goku had every right to be tense. Aside from that, he'd also had quite a few days to cool off and pick up his scattered thoughts. His confusion had greatly diminished, and he had come to the conclusion that what he and Son Goku really needed to do was talk- and that meant talking about everything until at least most of what was wrong between them was resolved.

After all, the consequences of not doing so meant he not only lost someone he cared about, he would also have a more difficult time obtaining his dream. Homura had no illusions about his selfishness.

Suddenly the boy turned to face him, eyes narrowed and his good hand resting on his hip by the knuckles. "I understand," he said. "I really do understand that you're hurt over... what happened." The pause didn't go over Homura's head; he guessed that Goku had been about to say something akin to, "... over losing Rinrei." He wasn't sure if Goku's hesitance annoyed or relieved him.

"Still," Goku continued, his voice quickly becoming flat. "I think you need to get over it."

That was unfair. Trying to keep the heat out of his voice but only managing to veil it, Homura began, "You wouldn't-" He quickly cut himself off, remembering what had happened the last time he had told the boy he wouldn't understand.

It seemed his retort had sparked enough curiosity for Goku to inquire, "I wouldn't what?"

Knowing Goku would only press until he got what he wanted, Homura sighed. "You wouldn't understand."

That got him exactly the reaction he had expected. Goku bristled, before growling and clenching his fists. Naturally, this made the injuries in his fingers open again, and a little blood stained the area around his knuckles. The brunette didn't seem to notice. "I can't believe we're going back to that again!"

"I _did_ refrain from saying it entirely," Homura pointed out wearily. "You asked."

"That's not the _point_! I can't believe you're still thinking things like that!"

Homura reached up, rubbing his forehead and passing his hand over his eyes as he refrained from snapping at the boy. It was surprisingly difficult to do. "You were out of place telling me to 'get over it.' "

He heard the boy growl low in his throat. "I don't see how it's 'out of place' when I'm your _lover_!"

"Lovers are just that- lovers," Homura bit back. His patience was wearing to a thin thread. "If you want our relationship to mean something, 'boyfriends' would be a lot closer to the proper term."

"No, it's _not_," Goku said stubbornly. "I don't care what the right definition is. Lovers are lovers, and that means that I _love_ you, damn it! Why else would I get mad when you hide things from me!"

"There may be plenty of reasons," Homura said. Before he could say more, Goku shrieked.

"_No_! Shut _up_, damn you!" Goku moved as though he were going to punch Homura has he did during their last fight, but his injuries made him falter before he'd even taken a step forward. Cringing and pressing his palm against his torso, Goku continued tersely, "I'm sick of you throwing my feelings aside just because you're clinging to her! Look, I'm _sorry_ about what happened. And maybe I can't _really_ understand, but I still... I feel like I can, okay?" He was beginning to flounder, a sign that he was starting to confuse himself. "But it's _been_ five hundred years... there's no way you're going to see her again. I just..." The boy pressed his lips tightly together, his jaw clenching. The bulge in his left cheek told Homura that Goku was biting his tongue.

"I just... I _can't_ understand why you won't even _try_." Goku's arms went lax, his fists clenching again as his body began to tremble. "I... I don't know..."

To Homura's surprise, the boy suddenly turned. He was heading for the door, and before Homura knew what he was doing he stood, moving swiftly in front of Goku and slamming the door shut before the boy could open it more than an inch. Startled, the brunette's head snapped up to look at him.

Firmly, Homura said, "No one is leaving this room."

Grimacing, Goku lowered his eyes to the door knob. "Move your hand," he tried to order. His tone ruined the effect, the words coming out shaky.

Homura didn't. "Neither of us is leaving," he repeated. "Not until we either fix this, or we realize it's hopeless."

At the last part Goku's head snapped up, his golden eyes flaring. "It's _not_ hopeless," he hissed. "Don't you _ever_ say that! It's not!"

"My point exactly." At his remark Goku blinked, seeming lost for a moment. Finally understanding dawned and he slowly nodded. Trusting him not to run, Homura let go of the door.

-

This time it was Goku's turn to sit on the bed while Homura paced. Or rather, wander- Homura didn't move quickly around the room in circles, he just sort of drifted around, pausing in random places to think either in silence or while Goku talked. However, he hadn't spoken in a while, and his lover's silence was aggravating him.

With a sarcastic edge to his voice, he said, "You haven't said anything for fifteen minutes." The look Homura shot him made him immediately shut up, resting his chin on his knee. His back was sore from the stretched position, but at least his injury hadn't reopened for the umpteenth time.

Homura sighed, turning his gaze away again. The sigh made Goku even more uncomfortable, and he began to squirm.

"And what of Konzen?" the man finally asked.

Not liking what he sensed was coming up, Goku returned flatly, "What of him?"

"You're clearly drawn to him," Homura pointed out. "How are you certain you don't want to be with him instead?"

Impatient, Goku said, "Because if I _wanted_ to, I would have instead of coming back here." He knew he had gotten Homura there, especially after the man grew quiet again. Not wanting silence to overtake them again, Goku continued. "I don't know _why_ I'm... okay," he quickly amended. "I kinda know why I keep followin' him. But it's not because I'm _attracted_ to him."

Shaking his head, Homura finally abandoned his place at the wall and moved back toward the bed. "I must admit, I can't understand that," he said in a gentle tone.

Goku bit back a sigh of relief. Finally, something that felt like progress. "Why not?"

Homura didn't take a seat, instead leaning against the post at the foot of the bed. He was looking toward Goku but not at him, his eyes distant. "Well," he said, drawing out the word slowly. "I can't honestly say."

Narrowing his eyes, Goku said, "Can't say, or don't _want_ to?" Homura blinked, pulling back a little. It was enough to tell Goku he had hit the mark perfectly. In a way, he didn't blame Homura- facing up to some things within yourself could be daunting, even frightening. It seemed like a surreal idea, Homura being afraid of anything... but Goku wasn't foolish enough to believe that Homura was fearless.

And speaking of facing up to fears...

Taking a deep breath, Goku waited until his heartbeat had slowed down a bit before speaking, his voice slightly hoarse. "Homura... can I ask you just one thing?" When the man made no move to deny his request, Goku pushed onward. "Can you really say that... you feel anything for me? Like how I feel for you?" He hated how small his voice sounded. It made him want to look away, but he simply hugged on to his knees tightly, staring Homura in the eye.

At first the man didn't answer. Instead he simply reached out, easing Goku's arms away from his knees. The movement puzzled Goku at first, but the dull sting in his shoulder told him he must have opened it again. Grimacing, he finally diverted his eyes to check. There was a small spot of blood barely the side of his palm staining the bandages Zenon had wound around him.

"I believe," Homura finally spoke, "that despite Rinrei... yes. There is definitely something there."

Goku exhaled heavy relief, managing a slight smile. In spite of everything that had happened, he was ameliorated to know his assumption of Homura hadn't been wrong. There was something there; Homura wasn't just humoring him because he was a child or because he felt he had to.

"Well," he finally said, his voice cracking a little. He waited until Homura looked him in the eye before a small laugh fell out. "That's definitely progress."

For the first time in days, Homura smirked.

-

It was strange to realize how much he had missed this. Homura had to be more careful than usual; he hadn't even wanted to lie with the boy anyway, not with his grievous injuries. However, Goku had been adamant, insisting that after such a long fight the one thing he deserved was a hug. Unable to argue with that, Homura had finally complied.

Goku kept shifting in his arms, clearly uncomfortable. Homura doubted he would be able to _get_ comfortable unless he was unconscious or healed, and the latter wasn't going to happen for at least a couple weeks.

The boy was lying so his good hand was on Homura's side. It was amusing, annoying, and mildly arousing all at once to feel the calloused fingers tracing senseless patterns over his ribs, but Homura wasn't about to tell him to stop.

Goku's head shifted, his hair brushing under Homura's chin. "So we're cool?"

Snorting softly, Homura tugged lightly on a long strand of the brunette's hair. "I believe so."

"Mm... good," Goku muttered, pressing his face into the man's chest. "Because fighting with you really sucks."

Unable to think of anything to say to that, Homura merely nodded. Besides, the boy was right- their arguement had taken more of a toll on him than seeing Rinrei's grave had. He was sure it wasn't because he had a closer bond with the boy - despite his attraction to him, despite her death, Rinrei was still his first and foremost love - but because it had gone on so long. Also, most of that time had involved being alone, chewing over the harsh words exchanged between them.

It was because of the peace that Homura kept thinking about it. He traced the pads of his fingers down the boy's back, feigning a gentle touch but in reality feeling the strong muscles beneath the fabric. Physical strength played a large part in Homura's plans, at least as far as Son Goku's went. Building stamina in the muscles, as well as teaching the boy to think through complex situations, on top of roughing it every once in a while, all three of these things contributed to the spiritual energy Goku was building inside. When one could tune into that and use it in tune with one's physical strength, it would make the bodily muscle seem that much more powerful when it was really just a combination of ethereality and tenacity.

He was almost strong enough, Homura realized. Some of the boy's emotional weights had been shed, and the lack of burdens seemed to have lifted Goku's fighting spirits. Homura would have to check again when his lover's wounds had healed, but he was almost certain that Goku was nearing the point where he would become most useful.

That meant it was time to get things rolling.

"Still," Homura murmured, careful to avoid the slashes beneath the boy's bandages. "There is one last thing we need to do."

Goku stirred a bit. "What's that?"

"Create the new world," Homura answered simply.

A hush settled over them, and that was preferable to it being between them. There was less tension when it was above them, as though it were held easier when they could both feel it, rather than when they were separated by it. Goku didn't seem upset, though he _was_ unusually thoughtful.

At last, the boy asked, "For Rinrei?"

"Yes."

Goku didn't answer to that. Feeling the silence starting to become heavy and drift between their bodies, Homura added, "And for us. All four of us." The tension hesitated, hovering where it was. "I believe we deserve it."

At first it didn't seem was though Goku was going to answer. Then, abruptly, the boy moved his hand from Homura's side to his back, pressing even closer to him. Against his chest, Homura felt Goku's lips curve into a smile. When he spoke, his voice was muffled.

"Sounds good to me."


	25. Chapter TwentyFive

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG

Pairings: none

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, violence

Notes: All right. Bit of a big announcement, due to recent happenings. Perfect World is going to be, indefinitely, put on hold at random times. I will update a chapter when and if I can, but as of late schoolwork, college applications, and scholarships have been demanding more of me. I really hate to do this, but getting to the college I want to go to far outweighs my work here. So for now, my updates will be far more sporadic.

I truly am sorry.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Five_

He had just been walking back to the campsite when a loud _pop_ seemed to peal through the air. Starting, Sanzo immediately whirled, half expecting someone to be using them for target practice. A quick glance disproved that theory, but not before common sense knocked him in the head and reminded him that bullets didn't pop. They may crack, and they definitely banged or exploded. But they still didn't pop.

A loud, rude snort caused his gaze to swivel on a certain redhead, the crimson hair highlighted with orange hues due to the firelight. "What's got you so jumpy, monk?" the man sneered.

Rather than answer the question, Sanzo retorted, "Shut up, die, or find a creative way to do both before I choose for you." He kicked a twig out of his way, watching it bounce into the fire. First sweeping his hand across the rock to get rid of any dirt, Sanzo took a seat. To his credit, Gojyo didn't tease the blonde further. This was fortunate for him, because Sanzo was in a particularly bad mood that night and would have planted a bullet between Gojyo's eyes before Gojyo would have been able to utter another full word.

A great deal of his tension actually had to do with the lack of assassination attempts as of late. Normally he would have said the lack of fighting was a good thing, but right now it was just the opposite. The attacks were too few and far between the further they traveled west, just like the towns. It was as though most of the crazed demons lay to the east. Sanzo knew that was wrong; it _couldn't_ have been right. Even though Kougaiji - or whoever he worked for - constantly sent out men, they couldn't have possibly sent most of their forces out so early into their journey.

No. Something was definitely wrong.

"Damn." Gojyo's voice made Sanzo's thoughts scatter, and he inwardly cursed the half-breed even as he turned his attention outward to hear what was wrong. Gojyo's nose was wrinkled in an expression of annoyance. "Firewood's not gonna last us all night."

"And whose fault is that?" Sanzo asked flatly.

His question earned him a glare from Gojyo. "How about you get off your lazy ass and _do_ something for once, instead of shoving everything on Hakkai and me," Gojyo growled.

Returning the look, Sanzo said, "I drive."

Throwing his hands in the air, Gojyo said with clear sarcasm, "Well, hell, how could I forget _that_? Yes, you keep your foot on the pedal all day, sittin' your happy ass in the driver's seat. Of _course_. My _apologies_, Oh Great Leader. I didn't realize staring at the road could be so _stressful_ on a man!"

"Don't you even start, freeloader," Sanzo shot back with equal venom. "At least I'm watching out for things on the road."

As his and Gojyo's bickering swiftly began to escalate into rougher insults, Sanzo noted from the corner of his eye that Hakkai wasn't turned toward him. The man never turned his face toward them; rather, he turned an ear if he heard something, as that would help him locate whatever it was easier. However, while Hakkai's lips were curved in obvious patient amusement, his head was cocked to Sanzo's right.

"I believe," the brunette said in a voice loud enough to falter their argument. "We have company."

Sanzo looked to his right.

Even in the firelight their guest was difficult to see; his clothes were dark, helping him blend into the night surrounding them on all sides. However, the fire was enough to show a pair of golden eyes glinting at them. The boy's features were unusually set. Determination thinned his lips.

His bad day - or night, as was the case now - had just taken a drastic turn for the worse. Sanzo could feel it even without knowing why the boy was there. Whatever his reasons, it was only going to cause him trouble.

"You again?" Gojyo was saying at the same time Sanzo demanded, "What do you want?"

Goku didn't look at either Gojyo or Hakkai, his gaze set determinedly on Sanzo. While he spoke firmly, Sanzo didn't miss the slight waver that told him the boy was uneasy saying what he had to say. "We're not gonna ask anymore. Just this one last time, but then we won't take no for an answer."

His appearance was different, Sanzo realized suddenly. He had thought something had been off, but now he saw what it was. Bandages tightly bound Goku's right forearm, and through the mesh of the boy's shirt Sanzo could see more bandages peeking out just below his ribs. Upon closer inspection thin, dark red lines were visible around the boy's neck. He had been in a fight, though Sanzo couldn't tell when. If they had been under better lighting he would have been able to have a more accurate estimate, but right then he thought that the neck wounds may have been at least two weeks old. If that was the case, Goku had been through something brutal, had somehow survived, and was at great risk even trying to propose a fight.

Eyes narrowing to slits, Sanzo said, "If it's the scriptures, too bad. I still refuse."

Quietly, with a clear threat lurking beneath his tone, Goku said, "You'll wish you'd given it to us, y'know. We don't lose."

"You lost last time," Sanzo pointed out. There was both smug satisfaction and a twinge of guilt at the hurt that flickered in the boy's eyes. Despite his cold tone, Sanzo probed the boy with his gaze. He had to know if this was final, if this was Goku's last answer. Once the boy set out on this path tonight, Sanzo wasn't going to let him become a burden, no matter what his orders were.

Goku kept his gaze level, the hurt fading as hardness replaced it. "I won't lose again, Konzen."

That cinched it. The use of the other name, the name that wasn't his but they insisted upon using it anyway, told Sanzo all he needed to know. Goku was staying true to his side.

The rest of his group was nowhere in sight. Then again, sight wasn't exactly the best sense to rely on in this sort of darkness. Sanzo drew his gun from his robes. His movement broke the stillness of his companions, Gojyo taking a step forward as he summoned his _shakujyo_. A faint light pulsed behind Sanzo, only the edges of the soft glow in Sanzo's field of vision. Hakkai had summoned his own "weapon."

It was three on one. The last time the odds had been split in this fashion, Goku's companions had been forced to retreat. It hadn't been a win or loss on either side, but now, to Sanzo, it felt like a loss. He wouldn't lose again.

Goku had said the same thing.

Just as the boy extended his hand Sanzo made the first move. He swung his gun, taking quick and accurate aim before he pulled the trigger. The bullet should have hit its mark, but to Sanzo's amazement Goku had summoned his staff without a sound, twirling it between his fingers. Deflected, the bullet spun out of sight.

The scrape of dirt behind him told Sanzo that Hakkai was moving. Stepping aside so as to be cautious, Sanzo watched as two compact balls of _chi_ whizzed past him. They were separated so that if Goku moved to either side he was at just as much risk as he was staying still. Of course, the boy leapt into the air, rising a good dozen feet into the air.

That was when Gojyo moved, swinging his weapon in a wide arc that sent the crescent blade hurtling toward Goku. The boy shouted something before swinging his staff hard enough to turn him sideways in mid-air. The weapon seemed to have split into three loose but contact parts. The blade of the _shakujyo_ glinted before hitting the ground, points dug into the earth first. Goku was landing.

Sanzo took aim, followed the boy's descent as he cocked the gun, and shot. Goku's body had twisted at an angle, so that there was little chance of him successfully avoiding Sanzo's shot. He had aimed for the side slanted toward him, so even if Goku pivoted on either foot he would have been hit. Now it all depended on which way he went, and the direction he moved in would determine how hard the slug would hit.

He hadn't counted on Goku _ducking_ to avoid the blow. Sanzo had targeted the boy's chest, so that one pivot would cause a lung to puncture, and another the heart. Faster than Sanzo's human eyes could comprehend, Goku crouched down, the bullet whistling just over his head. It was then Sanzo detected the cocky smirk on the boy's lips.

He was stronger than before. Stronger, faster, possibly even smarter. Their adversary wasted no time in bragging this time around, instead just leaping forward. His staff whole again, (When had that happened? It irked Sanzo to know he had somehow missed that) Goku charged Gojyo, rising to his feet as he ran. There was a loud cry, a panicked yelp, and then the sharp clang of weapon against weapon. Despite the clear differences in height, Goku was bearing down on Gojyo and the half-breed was clearly struggling just to keep the weapon from coming down completely and bashing his face in.

Gojyo seemed to think it was time to switch tactics. Silver blurred as he gave a sudden hard shove against Goku, swinging the wide blade down at the boy's legs. Goku wisely jumped up; if he hadn't, Gojyo would have sliced his legs clean off from the knees down. As he was in the air Hakkai was forming another round of _chi_ between his palms. Sanzo could barely discern a look of utter concentration on the man's face before the power exploded.

This time Goku was unable to avoid it. He was hit hard and went flying over Gojyo's head, slamming into the ground with a meaty _thud_. Knowing it was dirty to hit an enemy while he was down, Sanzo still made sure his revolver was loaded before pointing the muzzle at the back of the boy's head. Goku was pushing himself to his knees. Sanzo still had a good shot. He pulled the trigger.

Goku's head snapped forward. A sharp cry sounded from him, but amazingly he didn't hit the dirt again. Instead, he quickly scrambled to his feet, rubbing the back of his head as a look of wonder crossed his face.

Now Sanzo was truly baffled. He had been positive Goku had been the only member of Homura's team who wasn't a god. How had his attack been deflected?

"Holy shit," Gojyo said. A second later Sanzo realized that Gojyo hadn't cursed because Goku was standing, but because he knew _why_ the boy hadn't fallen.

Then Sanzo blinked. He stared at the boy's limiter. Goku was tracing his fingers over the broad front, understanding glimmering through his childish features.

Sanzo couldn't believe the dumb luck he'd had. Apparently, Goku's limiter was a full circle; a diadem, a ringlet. Sanzo's slug had hit the back ring, and Goku's limiter was somehow strong enough to withstand such an attack. That meant it wasn't an ordinary, man-made limiter, which led to the thought that the limiter must have been specially made.

And _that_ meant that whatever power the boy contained was so strong, so raw, so _incredibly_ amazing that the average limiter couldn't hold it back. He wasn't just a threat now- he was downright dangerous.

Sanzo knew he had to think quickly. He wracked his brain for ideas, thoughts passing by in mere milliseconds. The kid was strong, had grown incredibly powerful since the last time they had seen him. Normally a situation like this called for Sanzo to use the Maten Scriptures; no matter how powerful an opponent, those scriptures could bind someone in place for as long as they held. The downside was that Sanzo _knew_ his opponent wanted the scripture.

_No,_ he suddenly thought, his eyes widening. _Opponents.__ Plural._

Now he understood. He knew why Goku had come alone, seemingly on an act of free will. The rest of his teammates had left this job to him and were waiting in the shadows for any opportunity to come out and steal the Maten scripture.

Using it was no longer an option at all. They would simply have to best the boy somehow- and on the rare occasion their usual strategies didn't work, there was only one thing left to try.

Teamwork.

He briefly considered voicing this idea to his teammates, but they seemed to realize it as well. Three pairs of eyes exchanged glances before turning their attention toward the cocky brunette before them. An infuriatingly smug smirk touched Goku's lips as he effortlessly twirled his staff, and then gripped it in both hands again.

Sanzo intended to wipe that smirk off his face. From the looks of his companions, they seemed intent on doing the same thing. He raised his gun, narrowing an eye as he pulled the trigger. As expected, Goku dodged it, this time moving to the left. Knowing he had one shot left before he would have to reload, Sanzo shot again at Goku's feet. The boy tucked himself into a quick roll, giving Sanzo the time he needed to eject the empty cartridges. He glanced up constantly as he inserted new bullets, knowing he would have to be on his toes.

Fortunately, Goku didn't seem to be after him at the moment. Once he was on his feet again he turned to Gojyo, emitting a loud cry as he lunged forward.

Unlike Sanzo, he didn't notice Hakkai off to the side, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration. There was a small flicker of light, and then Goku slammed into an invisible wall, compliments of his blind opponent. Sanzo was quietly impressed; Hakkai hadn't raised his hands. It seemed his manipulation of _chi_ was growing far more impressive by the day.

Goku staggered back, blood trickling from his nose. Sanzo had just cocked the gun again when Gojyo made his move. The crescent of the _shakujyo_ flew out again, this time not aiming to kill. The chains wound around the boy's neck and Gojyo pulled them taut. Goku toppled forward, hitting the ground with a shriek of pain.

Sanzo was amazed that their opponent's neck hadn't snapped with the force of Gojyo's tug. The redhead seemed equally surprised but he said nothing about it, keeping the chains pulled tight. Goku choked, his hands flying up to his throat and clawing angrily at the constricting force.

This battle had been won. Sanzo knew it even though Goku wasn't dead yet- because soon the boy would be. He stepped forward, planting a foot on the writhing brunette's chest and pushing down with all his weight. Goku made a choked cry, golden eyes burning with fury as they looked up at Sanzo. The depth of his hatred made Sanzo go cold, and for a moment he faltered.

Somehow being on the receiving end of Goku's anger seemed... wrong. It made Sanzo's hand shake for a moment, and abruptly the voice within his head screamed to life. He staggered back, dropping the Smith Wesson as he made a strangled gasp. Someone called his name- perhaps two people? Six? It was suddenly hard to tell. The only voice he could clearly discern was the one within his mind.

The screaming suddenly died, and when Sanzo lifted his head he saw that Goku had somehow managed to get loose. He cursed Gojyo, realizing that the man must have let his grip go lax when he had seen Sanzo stumble.

Suddenly the outcome was very uncertain. Sanzo moved, but Goku was quicker. Even as he dodged another of Hakkai's shots the boy managed to make it to Sanzo's weapon first. He skidded in the dirt, fingers curling around the weapon. Sanzo quickly fell back, knowing that the worst thing he could do was be close to Goku when the boy had his gun. A growl slipped from his throat.

The boy didn't cock the gun; he didn't seem to know how to use it. Even so, Sanzo didn't want to be near him in case he accidentally found out how. He backed up even further, and Hakkai was moving forward. If anything could block a stray bullet, it would be Hakkai's shield.

Even at his distance Sanzo could see Goku's narrowed eyes. The boy stared at them for a long moment, all four of them locked in a stalemate. The air grew thick and heavy, pressing down on their shoulders and making it harder for Sanzo to breathe.

With a noise of disgust, Goku flung the Smith Wesson aside. Unlike a normal person tossing it, Goku's force made the gun spin out several yards. There was a sharp crack, and Sanzo knew the gun had hit a tree.

Suddenly Sanzo knew this was what it felt like to be defenseless. He still didn't dare to use the sutras, but he was no match for Goku in hand-to-hand combat. Gojyo and Hakkai _might_ be able to handle the boy, but Sanzo had the nauseating feeling that without Sanzo's bullets Goku was no longer going to be as cautious- and thus would be able to defeat the other two far easier, since now _they_ would be distracted trying to keep Goku from the scriptures.

Crouching down, never taking his eyes off the three, Goku retrieved his weapon. Once he had it he ran forward, his yell louder and full of more animalistic triumph than before. He, too, had sensed his victory. Hakkai seemed to be forming a shield again, but this time Goku swung with the staff, and the action propelled him over the shield rather than slam him into it. He landed behind Gojyo, and the side of his staff crashed into the half-breed's ribs just as Gojyo was turning to block him. The redhead went crashing into Hakkai, and they both hit the ground. A wretched gasp of pain tore itself from Hakkai, and from the angle he was standing Sanzo could see the trickle of blood dripping from the blind man's mouth.

Sanzo was wrong. They had lost.

Goku strode up to him, his staff resting on his shoulder. He stopped about three feet from the man, his feet planted firmly in the ground.

"How about now?" Goku asked.

Sanzo scowled, folding his arms over his chest. "No."

Lowering his gaze briefly, Goku said quietly, "I really don't wanna kill you."

"You will not get the Maten scripture any other way."

Sanzo's head snapped to the side; he hadn't said that, and the voice that had interrupted them was annoyingly familiar. A new figure materialized from the shadows, this one far more visible by the brightly glowing sword resting on his shoulder. Only the golden eye was visible in the darkness, but Sanzo knew who he was.

"Homura..."

The man didn't even glance at Goku, his attention fully on Sanzo. "I have to admit, I almost thought you and your friends would defeat him."

Sanzo noted Goku's frown, but didn't comment. Instead he said firmly, "No matter how many times you ask, I won't change my mind."

Homura's lips curved. "Of course. That's what I like about you, Konzen." Before Sanzo could retort the ebon-haired god's eyes slid to the side. "It will be your move, Son Goku."

He was trapped. Sanzo heard Gojyo and Hakkai trying to straighten themselves out from his right, but from the way they had crashed into each other he doubted either would be of much use as far as fighting went. All he could do was back up, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs.

Goku matched his retreat step for step, moving a bit quicker so Sanzo would be unable to get too far away from him. His options were down to nothing; the Smith Wesson was too far away for Sanzo to even hope trying to go for it. No doubt their other two companions were in the woods anyway, ready to step out should Sanzo even take a single step toward them.

He had no other choice. Sanzo finally stopped, his eyes hardening as he drew one hand up. He didn't dare close his eyes, not with Goku's superhuman speed. Clearing his mind, Sanzo began to silently chant.

The brunette dashed forward, grunting as he swung at Sanzo's feet. Barely able to dodge, the priest stumbled back, still thinking of nothing but the holy chant.

_Soku__ setsu shu watsu gya tei gya tei ha ra gya tei ha ra so gya tei-_

His thoughts were cut off. Goku had gotten too close, and thus Sanzo couldn't avoid the next blow. Something solid crashed into his shins, sending Sanzo sprawling to the ground with a cry of pain. He rolled over on his back, and Goku's fist embedded itself into the ground. The boy grimaced, as though he had disturbed an old wound, and Sanzo's gaze was drawn to the bandages.

The brief distraction cost him. Goku struck him sharply on the side of the head, and for a moment Sanzo only knew pain, then darkness.

When Sanzo came to he knew it had only been a few seconds later. Goku had rolled him over on his side and was just then removing the Maten scripture from the priest's shoulders. Panic seized Sanzo and he let loose and outraged cry, swinging without thinking.

Taken aback, Goku dropped the scriptures. They fluttered to the dirt and Sanzo made to grab at them. Before he could a shoe came down on his arm, pinning it to the ground. A bone snapped, and Sanzo couldn't hold back even a small scream.

"Thanks, Homura," he dimly heard Goku say. Glaring up with murderous intent, Sanzo was met with an even, strangely solemn stare.

Homura lifted his eyes, looking over Sanzo. The blonde had a feeling he was speaking to Gojyo and Hakkai. "If you wish to retrieve the scriptures, come to Konran Tower. I realize it's quite out of your way, but whether you come or not is up to you." The foot was raised from Sanzo's arm. Homura and Goku stepped back, Goku clinging to the Maten scriptures. For some reason he wouldn't look at Sanzo, almost as though the boy could feel Sanzo's hatred boiling. He wanted to _kill_ Goku.

No.

He _would_ kill him. Sanzo swore it just as Homura and Goku disappeared from sight. He began to sit up, but the place where his head had been struck throbbed with sharp pain. He fell back, and this time he didn't wake up for a good few hours.


	26. Chapter TwentySix

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: suggested Kougaiji/Yaone

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, sexual innuendo

Notes: Sorry for the long wait. Updates will continue to be sporadic. Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

_Chapter Twenty-Six_

"Reporting in. Scanned parameters still clear."

The voice coming through the earpiece was high but firm, the tone set as that of a soldier on a life-or-death mission. In a way, that wasn't far from the truth... though Kougaiji currently wished that the distance wasn't as far as it was. The static made it difficult for him to hear Yaone.

"That's fine," he said briefly. "Keep watch. Report if you see anything, or in fifteen minutes. Whichever comes first."

"Yes, sir."

Sighing, Kougaiji threaded his fingers through his hair. It had been the same routine for nearly a week now. Yaone was out to the east, scoping out Konran Tower, the current hideout of the gods. Nothing remarkable had happened as of late, save for her reporting a boy entering the tower and not once emerging since then. Though their surveillance wasn't 24/7, Kougaiji still trusted Yaone's information.

If it hadn't been for her, they wouldn't have a chance at invading. Lirin was the worst possible choice to send as a scout. Kougaiji loved his half-sister dearly, but she was too irresponsible to be set with such a task. He didn't ignore her faults, and her short attention span was among those he recognized with ease. She wouldn't have had the patience to sit still for so long, not without demanding that Kougaiji entertain her. Besides, Lirin had already done her part- she had been the one to suggest the idea, saying she knew where to get a hold of the technology they would need. Kougaiji had been wary, but no trouble had arisen so far, so he was more at ease with the idea than he had been when she had proposed it.

Dokugakuji would have had the patience, but his build didn't made it ideal. He was too noticeable; it wasn't really his fault. It simply wouldn't work. That wasn't to say that Yaone wasn't noticeable, but she was far less so. Kougaiji certainly couldn't leave, either, not with the possibility of Gyokumen Koushu summoning him at any moment. And anyway, if the enemy _had_ noticed her, they had chosen to humor them and let it alone.

He was about to remove the headset when a tiny beep sounded in his ear, signaling that Yaone was about to speak again. Kougaiji kept his hand on the device, but didn't remove it.

His choice proved to be wise. "My Lord, they have returned to the tower."

Frowning, Kougaiji asked, "All four of them?" From the information they had pieced together, it had seemed that there was one opponent for each member of Kougaiji's team. The irony was eye-rolling.

"Yes." There was a slight pause before Yaone spoke again. "My Lord... they carry a scripture."

"The Seiten scripture?" Kougaiji's voice came out hot, slightly bitter. He still hadn't quite recovered from his earlier defeat. Gyokumen, naturally, blamed everything on his incompetence. He could still hear her demanding, grating voice ringing in his ears. _How dare you show your face to me again, after letting those gods get past you! Do you realize what we've lost? Don't you realize what _you've_ lost, boy? Get that scripture back if you ever want to see your mother in one piece again!_

As much as he hated to admit it, Kougaiji couldn't fully blame her for those words. He was, after all, a body guard of sorts. If the Seiten scripture were in danger of being stolen, it was up to him to keep it in the castle. Not only that, her reminder over her power of his mother stung. Gyokumen Koushu held his mother's fate in her hands.

Gods, how he hated that bitch.

"No." It took him a moment to let the word sink in, as well as its meaning. Even without his asking, she explained. "I believe it's the Maten scripture. The one that belongs to the Sanzo party."

_So they have it..._ Once again, the gods had left a scar on Kougaiji's pride, though this time indirectly. He had had the chance to take the Maten scripture on occasion before, but fair play always made him hesitate and vow to return another time. But here these gods were, just taking it whenever they pleasedbecause they knew they could. They were capable. _More_ than capable.

From the static silence that followed, Kougaiji realized Yaone was awaiting further orders. Once he was sure he could keep the anger out of his voice, he said slowly but deliberately, "Keep watch a little longer. We need an opportune chance to invade. Let me know when you think you've found that chance, Yaone."

"Yes, my Lord," she replied, her determination clear even through the white background noise. There was another beep and then silence. She had turned off the headset in order not to be distracted from her mission.

Women like her, Kougaiji could respect. In some ways she reminded him of his mother- and perhaps that was one reason why he found her companionship calming. She was a strong, loyal individual. How could he _not_ respect that, especially when he knew she was always so eagerly trying to earn his trust?

A hesitant but deliberate knock sounded. Yaone was still out on surveillance, so he knew it wasn't her. Dokugakuji always knocked louder, more firmly, and Lirin just burst into the room. On the rare occasion she _did_ bother to announce her presence first, it was always soft, but never cautious.

Skeptical, Kougaiji swiftly hid the headset from view, tucking it into the corner of the wall before covering it with a pillow. For once, the gaudy bedroom decor had proved useful. "Enter," he said briskly, getting to his feet.

As expected, one of the lower-status demons opened the door. He regarded Kougaiji without fear or reverence, indicating he was most likely one directly under Gyokumen's control. His bravery contradicted his earlier knock, but he had probably been told it was the only way Kougaiji would recognize who had sent him.

The demon said, "Your presence is requested, Lord Kougaiji."

The title was nothing but an accessory; the prince could tell by the way the lower demon handled it. Something didn't quite feel right, as even those under Gyokumen usually regarded Kougaiji in one way or the other. Narrowing his eyes, Kougaiji asked, "By who?"

"The name is unnecessary." Now the demon sounded as though he were reciting a boring, unmoving line from a play, or as though he were a student forced to read long, uninteresting poetry aloud. "You're not even required to come. It all depends on how much you care about those closest to you."

_Lirin._

The thought was instinctive, and Kougaiji knew it wasn't wrong. His sister had a penchant for mischief, and he had the sickening feeling that she had gotten herself into deeper trouble than she could handle.

Also, he had a feeling he knew what it was about- and who had sent for him.

"Dismissed," he said curtly, striding past the demon without bothering to note his reaction. He didn't care. All he knew was that he had to go downstairs, and fast.

The elevators were back up and working again, since the attack on Houtou Castle was long over. Kougaiji didn't have the patience to push the button and wait. Instead he bypassed them completely, going directly for the stairs, taking them two at a time on his way down. His pulse throbbed in his ears, anxious, scared, and furious.

Despite the fact he rarely ever went downstairs, Kougaiji threaded through the mazelike hallways as easily as he would have upstairs. His quick pace only paused when he had to hesitate outside the Control Room doorway. Once it slid open he stepped in, eyes flickering over the room until he caught sight of who he was looking for.

Doctor Nii's back was facing him, his concentration on a computer screen before him. The clacking of keys reverberated through the room for a moment, but he stopped and turned as though sensing Kougaiji's proximity. He didn't appear alarmed, was even leaning back in his chair with a smug, knowing smirk touching his lips.

"What can I do for you, my Lord?"

Like the messenger from before, his use of Kougaiji's title wasn't in reverence or even fear. Unlike the demon, however, there was a touch of mockery in his tone. Kougaiji's fists clenched. He didn't even notice his own claws trying to dig into his skin. The pulse in his ears was accompanied by another sound: the hum of machinery. It was akin to the background static when he had been talking to Yaone just minutes ago.

"Where is my sister?" he demanded.

The man had seemed to have lost interest in eye contact; he was looking down at the stuffed, battered rabbit in his lap. Toying with one of the plush animal's paws, he mused. "Ah, the Lady... why, she's in time-out, I believe."

Nii was a slimy man, his words slick as oil and attitude just as greasy. It disgusted Kougaiji, and it angered him because the man was too damn good at rousing his fury.

Unfortunately, Nii also had a way with manipulating his words and voice so that even such a simple, innocent remark could make Kougaiji feel as though he'd been dropped into a crevice full of ice. "What are you talking about?" he growled.

If anything, the doctor's smirk merely grew wider. "I thought it was simple enough. She's in time-out for being a naughty girl. Even princesses must be punished for bad behavior." He shook his head, _tsk_ing softly as his eyes raised beneath the glimmer of his glasses. "Of course, you know all about it."

He knew all about it? Struggling to muddle through his befuddled anger, Kougaiji eventually reached a conclusion. When his eyes widened, Nii's expression transformed. It was slight, but noticeable amusement shone through.

"Yes," the man continued, tugging on one of the overstuffed ears of his toy. "What a terrible thing, to realize your own sister is a thief."

Kougaiji slammed a fist into the nearest wall. It didn't appear to phase Nii, and knowing that only made the blood in Kougaiji's veins boil hotter. "Where is she?"

"In time-out," Nii repeated, this time with a note of boredom. "However..."

When it became clear Kougaiji would have to play along to get the man to finish his sentence, the prince clenched his teeth. He tried not to grit them, waiting until he could loosen the muscles in his jaw before he spoke. "However?"

Nii's eyes went toward the ceiling, as though in a thoughtful manner. "However, I suppose she could be allowed out early with some sort of payment."

While he wasn't above making deals when someone's life was on the line, Kougaiji still hated the idea when it was used against him. His sister was strong; she was physically stronger than him, possibly even emotionally. If she hadn't freed herself by now, then there was no way she _could_. Knowing Doctor Nii had him wrapped around his little finger just as much as Gyokumen Koushu did was infuriating. Those two were made from similar mold.

"What kind of payment?" he asked grittily.

"Well, you seem like an intelligent young demon," Nii said, his tone still patronizing. "I'm sure you can figure it out."

Resisting the urge to slam his balled fist into the human's face, Kougaiji quickly diverted his eyes. Every muscle felt taut, the sensation making it even easier for tremors to course through him. He fought to keep a firm hold of rational thought. As he was doing so, he noticed that the doctor's other two accomplices seemed to be eavesdropping. Doctor Huang was clearly listening even as she pretended to pause and observe with false interest whatever was on the paper in her hands. The instructor - Wang, if Kougaiji remembered correctly - never looked up, but his pointed ears were twitching their way.

Really, there was no such thing as privacy in Houtou Castle.

It occurred to him then. "You want me to retrieve the Seiten scripture," he said flatly.

"It certainly would help everyone, don't you think?" Nii inquired, one eyebrow arched. His infuriating smile never left his face, only agitating Kougaiji further. "The rest of us down here can finally continue with the experiments, and you will be one step closer to having your mother back. Doesn't everybody win this way?"

Doctor Nii wasn't to be trusted. No matter how much he made things out to seem like fair play, Kougaiji couldn't shake the feeling that the man had his own hidden agenda. What, he couldn't even begin to guess, but there was definitely something. Nii was impossible to predict, but Kougaiji knew one thing: whatever he was here to do, it was for his own personal gain.

"Fine," Kougaiji muttered, turning on his heel.

He had barely taken a step before Nii mused, "I suppose you aren't interested in the other conditions..."

He froze.

"Oh my, did I catch your attention?" Nii chuckled from his seat. It wasn't until Kougaiji slowly turned to face him that the man continued. "You must think about it, my Lord. If a girl's own mother can't learn to love her, how can her brother be trusted to come in her time of need? I needed more conditions."

The blood drained from his face. Kougaiji felt as though his flesh were crawling with a thousand insects, several bugs with multiple legs. It was the sense of dread.

"What conditions?" he all but hissed.

Resting his jaw against one of his hands, Nii appeared to scrutinize Kougaiji before speaking again. "It's merely a matter of what you've been doing, my Lord. Now, normally I'm not one to poke around into other peoples' business, but once some of my equipment mysteriously vanished... well, a little looking into was necessary." His lips curled a slight bit more.

So in short, what he was about to propose was blackmail. Naturally, Nii would make it seem as innocent as possible, but Kougaiji wasn't a fool. He knew the difference, and realizing that Nii had somehow found some sort of leverage against him only served to feed his anger. Much of it was directed toward himself for not noticing.

"And?" he said impatiently. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

"And," Nii continued in his own lazy way. "I believe that Lady Koushu will be less than happy to find out you've abandoned your mission in order to get your own personal revenge against these gods." Kougaiji flushed hotly in humiliated anger, and Nii merely aggravated him further by making that tutting sound again. "Not very considerate of your mother, is it?"

"All right!" His fists were clenched hard enough to make the muscles from his wrist to shoulder taut, trembling with unshakable anger. "You've made your point," he said tersely. "I get both scriptures, you keep quiet."

Nii made an absent noise of agreement, carelessly lighting a cigarette. "The Maten scripture has the ability to banish darkness," he said, as though he hadn't told Kougaiji so several months ago upon Gyokumen Koushu's orders. "Theoretically, it should banish such memories that I would forget minor things. Princes disobeying direct orders, acting independently, taking his own alchemist to bed on a regular basis..."

Sharp emerald eyes gleamed meaningfully beneath the man's glasses. His gaze was partially obscured from the light of the computer screen reflecting off the lenses, but Kougaiji still got the full blow of the message. He paled so quickly it left him feeling numb. Even his hands had lost all sensation in them.

It was one thing to threaten his sister. While still unforgivable, Kougaiji knew he was more than capable of fighting his way back to her if need be. But if Gyokumen Koushu got even the vaguest clue that his and Yaone's relationship was anything more than platonic, whether or not the rumor was true - and it _wasn't_, Kougaiji had to remind himself - then he had no idea how to fight against that. Words were harder to dispel than physical bodies.

He didn't hate anyone more than Doctor Nii right then. Not even the woman tugging the strings bound to his hands and feet. Giving the man a hate-filled glare, Kougaiji reluctantly and slowly nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak, and to his relief Nii didn't force him to.

"Always a pleasure to do business with you, my Lord." And then, to add injury to insult, the man stood and bowed deeply.

Dokugakuji was in his room when Kougaiji returned. The prince wasn't in the mood to deal with him, but rather than snap at him he just strode to his bed, uncovering the headset he had set aside minutes ago. He turned it on, speaking tersely into the mouthpiece. "Yaone."

"My Lord?" She sounded puzzled and worried by his tone. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Dokugakuji wearing an expression to match Yaone's voice, though the man beside him also had his eyes narrowed as though he knew something was very wrong.

"Return to headquarters now," he said in a clipped tone. He left no room for argument, though he knew Yaone would never argue with him without very good reason. "There's been a slight change in plans. Doku will fill you in."

"Yes, sir."

He shut the device off before he let out a loud growl of frustration. He hated the feeling of being backed into a corner, and that was precisely what Nii had just done to him.

Without thinking he flung the headset at the wall. Some fragile pieces snapped off, flung across the room upon impact, but it was otherwise very well made and stayed intact. That only made Kougaiji angrier, because it proved that it was, indeed, Nii's equipment. Who else would make something that worked so well and remained, for the most part, unscathed even after abuse from one with considerable strength?

"What happened, Kou?"

He didn't turn to face the man; he couldn't. Instead, Kougaiji pressed his lips tightly together, counting backwards from ten. It gave him enough time to calm down and speak evenly. "When you go to meet Yaone, tell her plans have been changed. The stakes just got a lot higher."

From Dokugakuji's hesitance to leave right away, Kougaiji knew the man was curious as to what his leader meant by that. However, he wisely kept quiet. Seconds later the door clicked shut softly behind him, and Kougaiji finally let out the sigh that had been building up on his lungs. Groaning, he collapsed to the bed, thudding his forehead against the mattress in childish frustration. He briefly considered hitting the wall instead, but he reluctantly decided against it. Yaone and Dokugakuji were likely worried enough as it was. Causing himself a concussion would not only make things worse on them, it would ruin their opportune chance to invade Konran Tower.

Then again, they couldn't wait for opportunity anymore. This time, they were going to have to go in and risk it all with one shot. The odds were against them, but they didn't have much of a choice now.


	27. Chapter TwentySeven

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: R

Pairings: Gojyo/Hakkai, Homura/Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, yaoi, lime

Notes: Again, I'm sorry for the extremely late update. If one needs explanations, my e-mail is easy to find, and I have two journals for you to peruse freely. As warning, regular updates aren't expected to resume until mid-July now.

Constructive criticism and feedback appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Seven_

It felt very strange to be driving away from the setting sun rather than toward it. They had spent the past several months heading west; turning abruptly east had been unthinkable before. Now there was a good reason to it—a damn good reason.

It was too quiet and tense, but Gojyo didn't dare say a word. Not with Sanzo in the mood he was in.

In fighting Goku, Hakkai had depleted most (if not all) of his energy creating barriers and attacks. Barriers had taken more out of the man, since it was harder to hold something solid than it was something less tangible. That was according to Hakkai, of course; Gojyo wouldn't know the first thing about it. Regardless, their healer had been unable to heal. The half-breed had ended up carrying both Hakkai and Sanzo to the jeep, and that had been a bitch to do with his broken ribs.

Due to Sanzo's broken hand, Gojyo had been deigned the driver that night. Knowing full well the priest was going to want to travel to Konran Tower anyway, Gojyo decided to find a town to the east, back where they had come from. They had arrived in town well into the next morning, their bodies and pride battered equally.

A town doctor had been able to tend to their superficial wounds. Thankfully, the man had asked no questions, though he must have been curious.

Sanzo, who had been drifting in and out of consciousness the entire ride to the town, had finally woken up completely as the doctor was tending to his broken hand. Gojyo knew because he had been asleep, and then had been woken by a sudden, piercing shriek of pain as the doctor had snapped one of the priest's bones back into place.

One of Gojyo's ribs had broken, two more above it cracked due to Hakkai's collision with him. Their healer had already been drained, and luckily that lack of energy had been the worst of the damage inflicted on him. It had been to the point Hakkai had had trouble focusing, even having difficulties staying on his feet—and he hadn't been able to sense things around him, because that required both focus and energy.

Along with his hand, Sanzo had also sustained a mild concussion after being thrown to the ground so hard. Out of all of them, however, Sanzo had been the one whose pride had suffered most. His scriptures had been taken right before his eyes.

So it was understandable that the first words Sanzo had spoken upon awakening had been a vehement, "I'll _kill_ him."

There was no need to ask who "he" was.

Worst of all – at least to Gojyo – the three of them had had to share a room. Normally that would be unpleasant enough, but they had either been camping out or sharing a room since the last time Goku had come to visit Sanzo—just Sanzo. It wasn't unusual; typically they would sleep within the same vicinity rather than risk being spread too far apart.

But ever since his awkward slip that night, Gojyo had been meaning to confront Hakkai.

On one hand, he didn't want to. He wasn't sure he knew what he wanted to say. On the other hand, it was eating away at him when he allowed himself to think about it. For the gods' sake, Gojyo knew tact wasn't his strong suit, but to encroach grounds that had been an unspoken agreement the two of them would never tread upon was just plain stupid.

There was something between them. Gojyo was surprised to realize he wasn't entirely sure if it was just sexual, or if it went deeper than that. He doubted it was merely physical attraction; otherwise he wouldn't have cared what Hakkai had thought about his careless outburst.

But on another vein, he was reluctant to say they had an emotional attachment. Emotional connections led to commitments, and Gojyo was more than uneasy at the idea of a commitment. In fact, he was almost ready to say he was just plain scared of one.

Realizing where his train of thought was going, Gojyo frowned. _Screw this,_ he decided in characteristic annoyance. Just because their relationship was ultimately in question didn't mean that he had to talk about those things now. All he really needed to do was smooth things over with Hakkai.

His long legs proved useful right then as he used one to nudge the passenger seat. Hakkai's head turned slightly, just enough for Gojyo to see the curve of his cheek and tip of his nose. It was enough.

"Sorry."

For a moment it seemed that Hakkai wouldn't understand, that despite his clever mind he would mistake Gojyo's apology as one for nudging the chair. But then he turned more, so that Gojyo could see the man's lips curving in a smile. While akin to his usual facade, the half-breed detected a hint of genuine warmth.

"Apology accepted," the brunette said. Hakkai's shoulders went lax, the only indication Gojyo had to realize his buddy had been tense.

And from his position, he could see the baffled expression on Sanzo's face. It wasn't open puzzlement, but the way the man's eyebrows were drawn seemed different than they had just minutes ago, the scowl on his mouth softening as his confusion seeped in to replace his anger. Though the priest said nothing, Gojyo was positive his and Hakkai's random exchange was going to eat at Sanzo's curiosity. So long as the man kept quiet, he would never find out, and he was too busy pretending he didn't give a damn about them to bother asking.

Gojyo smirked, sat back, and lit another cigarette.

-

East. They were going back _east_. If he hadn't been preoccupied driving, Sanzo would have shot something, anything. Maybe Gojyo. He was always a good target.

His fingers twitched uncontrollably against the steering wheel.

Despite his anger, he had a plan. It wasn't entirely rational, nor would it serve any purpose other than to alleviate his fury, but it was a plan nonetheless. After careful and considerable deliberation, Sanzo had finally decided that their course of action would be to go to Konran Tower as Homura had invited them to. Once he got the scriptures, he was going to beat Goku over the head, drag him all the way west, and once in India he was going to offer the kid as a sacrifice to whoever was running the revival of Gyuumaoh operation.

The idea was growing more appealing by the second. Sanzo was especially fond of the part where he would hit the boy over the head. Perhaps he'd use his gun, the one he'd had to retrieve the day his wounds had been wrapped. It hadn't been easy slipping out of the village, especially with Gojyo and Hakkai watching over him so annoyingly. He grudgingly admitted that they probably had had good reason to be wary of him, but that hadn't make it any less irritating.

Using the jeep, it had taken nearly half an hour to return to the fight scene. The fire had burned itself out sometime over the night; all Sanzo had seen as remains had been cold, dark ashes.

It had taken nearly two hours to find his weapon. The damn brat had thrown it several yards into the forest, and the rubber grip had been torn on the right side from its scraping impact with one of the trees. Sanzo had been quietly amazed that the Smith & Wesson had survived such a powerful throw, especially when he noted the large chip taken off the tree behind him.

Upon closer inspection, the weapon had also received other scuff marks. Dirt had started to settle into the cartridges, as well as various nooks and crannies. He had decided to clean it first thing when he returned to the inn.

Unfortunately, it hadn't been quite as easy. Sanzo had been amazed when, walking out of the forest, Hakkai and Gojyo were already in the jeep. They had followed him, though they claimed to have come for reasons other than concern.

Gojyo had then asked what their next course of action was. Without a word, Sanzo had driven back to the town, where they took time to recuperate. The second the bandages were removed from his hand, the group had finally begun to head east.

"Sorry."

Sanzo opened his mouth to snap that yes, he _should_ be sorry. Before he could get anything out he realized that the apology hadn't come from the boy he was angry with, but rather Gojyo. Despite himself, he couldn't help but wonder where the hell _that_ had come from.

As though hearing his thoughts and wanting to puzzle him further, Hakkai said he accepted the half-breed's apology. Things went quiet again after that, but now Sanzo's attention had been successfully diverted. Annoyance burned him, and he irritably wondered what in the world was going on.

He didn't ask; wouldn't ask. But that didn't change the fact he was itching to know. If nothing else, he'd probably just add that to his reasons to smack Goku. One hit for each time the boy somehow had caused him pain.

Sanzo's grip on the steering wheel relaxed.

-

While it was certainly better than walking, the jeep's ride wasn't entirely stable. The vehicle shook and rattled as they sped across the landscape. It seemed that any little rock or slight incline would jolt the passengers.

Of course, Hakkai couldn't say exactly what caused that. But he could make an educated guess, and he wouldn't have been surprised if he were to be proven right.

It was amazing what a few days of rest could do. Replenishing natural energy wasn't easy, but eating had helped immensely. Nearly every day during their recovery he had spent almost half of that energy healing Sanzo's hands. Bones were harder to mend than flesh wounds, which was why it required more concentration. However, waiting for Sanzo's hand to heal on its own only would have hurt them. Mostly him, of course, but overall it most likely would have only aided their downfall when they eventually confronted Homura's group.

Confrontation. A grim smile crossed his features momentarily. What they were going to do would amount to far more than a simple dispute. Their pride lay on the line, and this time they were either going to gain it back or die trying. That was just the type of people they were. All different, certainly, but they had that much in common.

Perhaps that much was enough.

-

The sky was full of clouds. Gloomy, gray mists of foreboding blanketed the darkness above them, blocking out any hope of star or moonlight. The sight wasn't beautiful, but it _was_ strangely calming.

The elevator doors slid open, but Shien didn't even twitch. He knew who it was. Seconds later Zenon joined him at the balcony ledge, taking a seat. His demeanor was unusual-- and then Shien realized that the man wasn't carrying his machine gun.

Interesting.

As expected, the man lit a cigarette. "Can't sleep?" he muttered casually.

"Hardly," Shien agreed, leaning his head against the pillar behind him. The groves made the rest uncomfortable, but he didn't intend to fall asleep there. "It seems you couldn't, either."

The other man shrugged carelessly. "Why else would I be up here?"

Shien didn't answer.

The night air was cool. Faint mist hovered, too cold to choke, but not thin enough to go unnoticed. The mist made the atmosphere eerily mysterious, and irrationally made Shien think that revelations could be revealed tonight because of the filmy presence.

After a few minutes of contemplative silence, Zenon spoke. "It's exciting." There was a strange note of boyish excitement in his voice, and Shien wasn't sure he liked it or not. "Knowing that we're just hours away from what we deserve... I feel power coursing through my veins. This is what it's like to _live_."

Shien didn't grimace, but he inwardly found himself uncertain. The only times _he_ really felt alive was when he was fighting—especially when, so long ago, it had been to protect the former War Prince.

"It does not bother you what this new world will do?" he asked quietly.

At first it seemed as though Zenon didn't understand the question. Then he snorted rudely. "Not really. This world is Hell. Pure, adulterated Hell. If it disappears, I couldn't give a damn."

Had he been anyone else, he wouldn't have dared taking a prod at Zenon's past. However, Shien was well aware that he was one of the two people who could get away with such a crime, and so he didn't hold back. He never held back even for a friend. "Even if the graves of your wife and child disappear?"

Zenon visibly stiffened. Gruffly, refusing to meet Shien's gaze, he retorted, "That's in the past."

"For something in the past, you have been carrying it on your shoulders quite often. Especially as of late," Shien noted matter-of-factly.

Acidly, Zenon shot back, "So have you."

He couldn't argue against that. Shien turned his gaze to the starless sky.

He couldn't help but wonder, as he had so many times before: had he been a child, rather than the man he used to be, would it have made a difference? Would he have been able to prevent what Son Goku had not? Would he have noticed the signs Son Goku had not?

Though it was possibly unfair, Shien still found Nataku's current state at fault with Heaven's murderous heretic.

As though sensing his thoughts, Zenon said with uncharacteristic quietness, "I wonder if the New World will become a repeat of the past."

Despite himself, Shien smiled grimly.

-

Homura looked up from his perusal of the scriptures when the door opened. As expected, Goku was returning, still wet and dripping from his shower. Exasperated, the god said, "I thought we agreed you would dry off in the bathroom."

Making a face, Goku proceeded to towel off right there. Once they had ventured into the sexual side of their relationship, the boy had decided to toss all modesty out the window. "But my clothes are in here," he pointed out, opening a drawer and grabbing his drawstring shorts and t-shirt.

Homura shook his head. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, the Seiten and Maten scriptures at hand. The Seiten was resting beside his thigh, while he had unrolled the first few feet of Konzen's scriptures and settled them on his lap. He was only vaguely interested in the reading material; he already knew what was within them. Research had helped him there. Still, it would seem odd to have them in his possession and not at least glance at them.

As he watched the boy get dressed, Homura decided he was actually grateful Goku had decided to ignore the deal they'd made. It gave him the opportunity to scrutinize the boy's injuries, and he concluded that they were healing quite nicely. Sumi's wires had made clean cuts, so the flesh didn't seem to have any problems stitching itself back together. The marks around Goku's arm would definitely leave scars, and possibly the faint red lines around his throat and across his abdomen wouldn't completely fade away, either.

In other words, the boy was still healing, but for the most part he was safe to touch.

As though sensing Homura's stare, Goku finished tying the strings on his shorts and looked up. He frowned. "You still got those things? Geez, I'm starting to think you like them better than me."

The man smirked, rolling the Maten scripture back into its normal compact form. "Perhaps you have every right to think so."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Goku demanded.

Rather than answer, Homura set the scriptures aside on the nightstand. He leaned forward and grabbed the boy's wrist, tugging him toward the bed until their lips could touch with ease. Goku blinked, but almost immediately relaxed. A pleased noise sounded from deep within his throat, and he scrambled onto the mattress. Homura fell back, trailing kisses along the boy's jaw. The sudden change in plans drew a wordless protest from Goku, and the boy eagerly reached down for Homura's jeans.

Reacting quickly, Homura grasped the boy's wrists, forcing them back to his sides as he took his time searching for all the sensitive areas from Goku's ear to his collar.

Whining loudly, Goku squirmed against him. "Homura! Let go!"

"Shh," he murmured. He already had everything carefully thought out, and if at all possible he was going to keep Goku from ruining it. Rushing headlong into things would definitely disrupt his plans, and that was the last thing Homura needed.

Because, in this way, he could apologize to Goku without raising questions.

"Damn it..." From the heat rising from Goku's skin, Homura knew the boy was aroused. He was also impatient; the boy was too used to having his way in bed. Goku strained in an urgent but vain attempt against the man's hold. "Let me touch! Come on!"

Homura didn't bother to hush him again. Instead, he used his height and weight to his advantage, pushing the boy back against the covers. Once off balance Goku fell easily, hitting the mattress with a soft _thump_. The sheets rustled. Homura's chains clinking against his lover's stomach as he straddled him.

Goku attempted to gain some sort of advantage, but with his hands pinned and having a smaller stature there was little he could do. He still tried, and that Homura admired even as it amused him. He switched his hold on the boy, managing to grip both of Goku's wrists in one hand. He used the other to trail down his lover's chest, murmuring softly into his ear. Goku shivered, arching as much as he could into the man's touch. Pleased with the positive reaction, Homura resumed nibbling on the brunette's earlobe.

"Homura..." Goku began to squirm even more, panting softly while kicking his feet in frustration. "Gods, you jerk!"

Sighing, Homura decided that surprise would be the only way he could get his lover to cooperate for at least a few minutes. "You will have to calm down if you want to get anything, Goku."

The boy froze beneath him. Homura immediately took advantage of that, releasing his hold on Goku's arms so he could slide both hands up his shirt. Goku shuddered, though Homura suspected not entirely from the touch.

"H... Homura..."

"Shh." His shackles were probably cold to the boy's skin, but right then they felt too warm. For the first time Homura could remember they were too tight, as though restraining his movements from what they _could_ be. He slid his fingers over Goku's firm abdomen, keeping his face inclined to the boy's neck. Beneath the veil of soap he could still catch Goku's scent, an almost sharp, earthy smell that reminded him of pine needles.

Homura pressed a kiss to the boy's neck the same instant his fingers ran over tanned flesh. Goku let out a small moan, reaching up to grip the man's arms tightly.

"Homura," he said again, his voice trembling with excitement. "You..."

"Said your name," he agreed, tracing circles around the boy's taut nipples, refusing to actually touch the sensitive areas. "I know."

Goku shuddered. "Gods..."

-

A mingle of sex and sweat stung Homura's nose, his eyes, filled every breath he took. To his amazement, he had only the lascivious image of Goku gasping, pouring rivers of sweat... and even more incredible was his utterance of the boy's name. When the intense pleasure finally dwindled, Homura found himself on his hands and knees, bracing himself above his lover with dark hair trying to cling to his eyes.

Shakily, Goku reached up and returned Homura's earlier affection by pushing the hair from his eyes. Even in his condition he managed a surprisingly vulnerable smile. Homura couldn't help but return it.

Then there was exhaustion as he sunk to the mattress beside the boy. There was a chill as the night air slowly settled on them, and then warmth as they crawled wearily beneath the blankets. Goku fell asleep first, easily more tired than his lover, and Homura was left awake a few precious minutes longer to catch his breath and enjoy the tingling heat of the boy's body curled up beside him.

When sleep claimed him, he had nightmares.


	28. Chapter TwentyEight

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: T

Pairings: Homura/Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, yaoi/shounen ai, language

Notes: I apologize for the delay. Real life sucks and rocks at the same time.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Eight_

This was what he got for questioning Rinrei's punishment. Had he not been immediately next in line to replace the comatose War Prince, he probably would have been reincarnated as well, or even just locked away again. Instead, they had chosen torture.

He was in no physical pain at the moment, yet Homura couldn't help but feel sick with dread. His arms trembled as he pulled uselessly against his restraints. Though he hated himself for it, small, wordless cries constantly escaped him. Chains encircled any part of him possible; they bound his wrists, ankles, thighs, and abdomen, ensuring that he couldn't escape even if he truly tried.

The blade sliced through the air. A thin whistling sound followed each movement. Homura's eyes followed it, back and forth, back and forth, like a deadly pendulum that only drew closer to him. The higher it was, the lower it seemed to swing over his body. First over his legs, and then as it slipped downward inch by inch, over his waist. Then it looked as though it would gut him, spilling hot blood all over the floor.

It was centimeters from his face. Horribly fascinated, Homura couldn't take his eyes off it.

_This is what I deserve..._

He had once thought that way. Perhaps, at times, he still did. In a way, he _had_ brought this torment upon himself. But in the back of his mind an unfamiliar whisper insisted that it wasn't fair. No one else was tortured merely by questioning the emperor's intent. At the most they were imprisoned, and at best they were put under strict probation for a short term.

But he was a heresy.

_This... is what I deserve..._

Now the blade seemed to swing in unbearable slowness. Homura's muscles grew taut with anxiety. Sweat was pouring in rivulets from every inch of his skin, getting into his eyes and stinging them briefly. He blinked, and then the sharp edge was that much closer. His breath caught.

The blade nicked him, barely creating a small opening on his lower lip. It didn't even sting; he couldn't register pain in the current state he was in. Eyes wide, he began to scream. His pupils contracted, the irises nearly swallowed up in the whites of his eyes. At that moment he couldn't realize that he was only feeding his tormentors' pleasure. All pretense of bravery had been lost.

The blade was raised, but he still continued to scream uncontrollably. He began to thrash; kicking, flailing, and shouting wordlessly at unseen enemies. Terror seized every thread of his being.

_This... is _not_ what I deserve._

Homura woke in a cold sweat.

The room was cloaked in darkness, the air uncomfortably warm in comparison to his body heat. He shivered, pushing himself up and looking down at his side. Son Goku remained still, his features slack with the weight of sleep.

The dream was still clear in his mind. Homura knew that was because it was more of a memory than a nightmare-- though, in reality, it had also been a living nightmare. He could remember the sound of the blade swishing through the air, lowering chain by chain. He had been bound on that floor more times than he could count. Sometimes the blade never touched him, but more often than not it did.

Once it had nicked his lip, as in the dream. Another time it had cut his forehead, and he had bled profusely. Yet another time it had sliced into his collar until bone had showed-- and the worst instance had been when it had cut into his stomach. The wound had eventually healed, but it had left its mark. He still had a clean scar just below his ribs. Fortunately, he was pale enough do that it wasn't prominent, but it was still there.

Homura traced the mark. It was about five centimeters long. He knew. He'd measured it once out of idle curiosity.

Warm lips on his side startled him. Homura looked down, only able to make out tousled dark hair in the dim lighting.

"Mm... why're you awake?" Goku's voice was slurred with sleep. He moved his arms around the man and nuzzled his shoulder. He seemed to lack the energy to pull himself up any higher than that.

"It's nothing," Homura said hoarsely. Startled, he cleared his throat.

Goku grunted softly in reply, pulling himself up until he could rest his cheek on the man's shoulder. "But you're so cold," he muttered, his words becoming easier to understand. Tightening his hold on Homura, he added, "And your heart's beatin' real fast..."

In an odd way, the boy's concern was both touching and annoying. Homura opted for silence, taking comfort in covering the boy's hand with his own. To his amazement, Goku's skin was warmer than his own-- just warm, not hot. Perhaps the boy was right and he _was_ too cold. He wondered if dreams could chill someone enough to take on that effect.

Goku either sensed his tension or was feeling unusually playful so early in the morning, because he nipped gently at Homura's shoulder. "Was it a bad dream?" The boy stifled a yawn, then continued as though not noticing Homura's sudden tension. "S'okay if it was... I won't laugh."

Despite himself, Homura smiled faintly. He traced the back of the boy's hand idly. "I know you would not."

They stayed like that for while longer, comfortable silence lapping at them as the first rays of sun began to filter through the window. Homura turned his head away, but beside him he felt Goku shifting to watch it.

At last he gently detached himself from his lover. "We ought to get ready. Today is the day."

Goku perked up at his words. "You mean... the new world?"

Somehow, Homura found it odd that there was no apprehension in the boy's voice. Then again, Goku wasn't fully aware of what this new world would cost to make, or the consequences that would trail behind.

And in order to pursue his plans to the end, Homura knew he would have to keep it that way a little longer. It meant that Goku would follow him blindly for a while-- but then, he'd been pretty much following the man blindly for over three years.

"Yes," was all he chose to say. "Get ready. We may still have a few hours until they arrive, but it will be best to be ready ahead of time."

Goku didn't ask who "they" were; Homura had known the boy would understand he was referring to the Sanzo party. Instead, he just nodded and climbed out of bed, fumbling for his shorts. Homura watched, unexpectedly finding his eyes roaming over the boy's body-- something he'd never done before. He hadn't expected to become this attached just before the new world was created. After, perhaps, if all went well, but not before.

That only increased the guilt. It pressed against his lungs, constricting his breathing. He had to close his eyes and clench his teeth, counting slowly and silently as he waited for the crushing sensation to pass. While it lifted, it didn't entirely disappear.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Goku staring at him expectantly, one hand on his hip. Homura blinked. "Yes?"

A smug grin touched the boy's lips. "Aren't you gonna come with me?"

Homura arched an eyebrow. "What for?"

"To shower."

He stared at the brunette for a few moments, trying to decide if he was serious. Hadn't he been paying attention when Homura had explained that they would want to be ready ahead of time? Even with that thought, Homura's lips tugged into a smirk. In wordless agreement, he retrieved his pants and followed the boy.

An extra few minutes couldn't hurt.

-

He was having trouble locating one of his shoes right then, but Goku could hardly care. He was elated, positively _giddy_ after the events of the past twenty-four hours. After all they had been through, hearing Homura call _his_ name at the height of passion was more than just an improvement; it _finalized_ things. And not only that, but the man had stopped using his last name along with it.

After three years of that, Goku believed he had every reason to feel the way he did.

And maybe it was because of those two things, but Goku thought that the last two times had definitely been more enjoyable. Last night had been one long mixture of sex, frustration, and overwhelming tender emotion; this morning had involved a lot more playfulness, especially on Homura's part.

Goku thought about it, then decided he definitely liked that. He recalled the man's mismatched eyes gleaming up at him in almost boyish wickedness, and that had been sexy as hell. Goku shivered.

As though on cue, Homura entered the room, pushing damp hair from his eyes. Goku exchanged grins with him (which, in Homura's case, was a cocky smirk) before he resumed the hunt for his missing shoe.

To his irritation, the man said, "If you are looking for your boot, you kicked it under the bed yesterday."

Goku twitched, but when he looked the shoe proved to be there as promised. He had to lie flat on his stomach to reach it. When he managed to grab it, the brunette was suddenly acutely aware of someone staring at him. He looked over his shoulder, returning Homura's gaze.

"What?"

"Nothing," Homura said calmly-- and too innocently, in Goku's opinion.

Rolling his eyes, Goku slid back from the bed and sat down, tugging his boot on. "You were checking me out," he accused.

Homura shrugged. "I see no reason not to. Aside from that, your horrible habits have rubbed off on me as of late." The comment reminded Goku of Zenon's teasing just weeks before, and he snorted while tugging on his laces. After he stood, Homura turned on his heel and strode from the room. He clearly expected Goku to follow, and follow he did. They used an elevator, much to Goku's relief. At the same time it only made him more fidgety; excitement was building to the point the boy was afraid he would burst.

This was a momentous day. Sometime in the future, this day would make history. Goku was sure of it-- and, most importantly, he couldn't wait to have Homura unconditionally to himself in this new place.

Forgetting that he was mad at him, he hoped he could still see Konzen sometime.

The elevator hummed around them while Goku's eyes wandered aimlessly. As the most interesting being in the enclosed space, Homura easily caught the boy's attention. It was then he realized that his lover was holding something-- no. Two somethings.

"What d'you need the scriptures for, exactly?" he asked.

He hadn't expected an answer, so it came as a surprise when Homura replied, "The Maten Scripture will become a bargaining chip."

Puzzled, Goku tried to work out what that meant. "You need something from Konzen?"

"I will," Homura corrected. "When the time comes."

"What time?" Goku pressed. The man only smirked in response; clearly he wasn't going to get anything but vague answers. Reluctantly, the brunette dropped the conversation and leaned against the wall.

_Damn it,_ he thought, scowling. Homura's cryptic answers were going bother him all afternoon, he just knew it.

When the elevator came to a stop, Goku felt his heart cease simultaneously. He remembered Shien's strange words so long ago when he had stumbled across a supposedly secret room. He had told the boy he wasn't "ready" to see it yet. Did that mean he was finally going to see it, learn why it was so important?

To his disappointment, the doors opened to the throne room. Homura strode out, and Goku followed. This place made him uneasy, but it wasn't hard to understand why. This had been the very room they had engaged in their worst verbal fight. Just remembering it was emotionally exhausting, so Goku quickly shoved that to the back of his mind.

Zenon and Shien were waiting in their normal places beside the throne. Homura continued up to them, but Goku hung back, suddenly uneasy. That was the scene that could only fit three people of importance-- and he wasn't one of those people.

Rather than sit down, Homura placed both scriptures on the seat. "This," he declared, "is the beginning of everything we have been working toward."

"Fantastic," Zenon said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "We get the typical villain's speech."

Goku snickered, earning a sigh from Shien and a barely visible smirk from Zenon. Homura snorted softly, finally facing the boy. There was nothing on his face to indicate that something extraordinary was looming over them, yet his earlier words had said just that.

"You two have become the perfect siblings," he said wryly. "In any case, this is what we need to do." His eyes flickered to the sides. "Zenon. Shien. You two will dispatch the obstacles, then accompany me upstairs. Goku." His eyes fell on the brunette, the humor fading from his expression. "You will follow them, but wait where Zenon tells you to."

Goku frowned. "How come I'm not going with you?"

"Simple, brat," Zenon cut in before Homura could reply. "You're the welcoming party."

Puzzled, Goku could only say, "What?"

"You will escort Konzen to this room," Shien said, his tone quiet but voice perfectly clear. "And from then on, you will finally learn everything you've wanted to."

The queasy feeling was back. This time, Goku highly doubted it was due to his surroundings.

"Let us begin," Homura said. Then, with only the faintest of reassuring smiles to his lover, he dismissed them.

-

The stairway was the longest route. That was why he took it, climbing each step with a note of determination. It was similar to his reasoning for taking them when he and Goku had been arguing, and that was to prolong what was to come. This time, however, it wasn't out of apprehension.

This was to help him savor the moment.

That was what Homura told himself, anyway. He didn't want to admit that the closer he drew to the pentagram, the closer he came to the climax of all he had been working toward. So much was at stake today. He had to create this new world; he'd vowed to do so ever since he had discovered it was possible. This was for himself, for his companions-- for the memory of Rinrei, still held most important in his heart.

_Watch me,_ he thought, as though she could hear him. _Watch me succeed in what I couldn't do for you while you were alive. I will create this world in your name, in your memory, in light of all we shared in our brief time._

It wasn't just for her anymore; not now, when he had so many others to take into consideration. This was also for Zenon, to heal his pain of what the demons had done to him. This was for Shien, to soothe the horrid memories of what the heavens had done to the one person he had wanted to protect. This was for Son Goku, to heal what he couldn't remember, and to give him a new place to start over without any prejudices whatsoever.

And finally, this was for himself. It was to create his ideal world, in which no god could ever pronounce anyone a heresy or otherwise. It was to give him a retreat, a place to live the rest of his shortened life in peace. Most importantly, it was a salve to his burned emotions and scarred body. All the cruel things the heavens had done to him in the past could be forgotten here, for they would no longer loom above or around him.

His chest tightened painfully in bittersweet anticipation. While he had started this with only good (though selfish) intentions in mind, he was well aware of all that could go wrong. His power might not be enough. He could miscalculate, ruin everything, and be apprehended and condemned even more by the heavens. In that possibility, an unsuspecting one would be forced to take his place as the War Prince. Once he discovered what was really going on, Son Goku might hate him.

No, he thought with a heavy sigh that hurt his constricted lungs. Son Goku would most likely hate him after this. He had told himself long ago that it was more than likely, and up until this point he had thought he could handle that.

Now, though, he wasn't so sure.

Homura had to stop outside the door, fingers resting on the handle as he took a moment to catch his breath. Walking up that many flights of stairs shouldn't have been so hard. But he knew it wasn't because he was out of shape. It was just his nerves tightening before the big event. This was natural. He should have expected it. After all, he was going to change the world-- or rather, destroy it, utterly changing the balance of the universe.

Finally, he pushed the door open. The hinges creaked in a sign of misuse. Inside the room was dark, though enough moonlight filtered through the windows to give him a good view of what lay within.

The stone walls were a grayish blue, the tiles on the floor mixed with the harsh blackness of a pentagram design in the center. The ceiling seemed to reach the heavens, though there were a good couple of stories above it. It smelled musty with the lack of use, but it wasn't overwhelming.

Homura took a step forward, intending to set down the scriptures and bring some light into the room, when a sudden fierce pain seized his chest. A small cry slipped from him as he doubled over, the sutras rolling out of his reach. Within him, it felt as though something was tugging viciously at his heart and lungs, trying to rip them out his back. Agony palpitated from his chest to his temples, every fiber of being in that area screaming in protest.

He clutched weakly at his heart, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt and pressing so hard into his skin, he was likely going to leave bruises. Heavy, ragged breathing reached his ears; Homura recognized it as his own. He groaned pathetically, sweat beading on his forehead. The tile felt cool just above his eyes.

It wasn't nerves. It wasn't anticipation.

He knew right then he would have to make a change in plans. No longer could he afford to keep Son Goku in the dark about what was to happen. As Homura pushed himself up on his hands and knees, he realized that in order to create the new world he would have to do so by force. Now, his new world wasn't going to be a place to live the rest of his life in.

He was dying.

The new world would be his grave.

-

Goku rubbed the back of his neck. He was bored, getting stiff, and even more anxious than ever.

Zenon had taken several gods -- who, Goku understood, had fled the heavens to join Homura's cause -- to the center of the tower. He had watched as they had begun to set up a feast; even now, delicious smells wafted through the closed doors before the boy, making his stomach rumble eagerly. But it wasn't for him.

Zenon had left rather quickly after that, his only words to the boy telling him to stay in this hallway. Konzen would come, he said, and most likely alone. If he wasn't alone, Goku was to get rid of whoever else was with him. When the brunette asked how, Zenon had knocked him upside the head, gruffly telling him that he had a brain and might as well try using it.

He was still uneasy.

Things were quiet now. Idle chatter from the gods was muffled by the thick double doors separating the room from the hallway. Goku tuned them out easily; he wasn't interested in them, anyway.

After their last encounter, Konzen was definitely going to be less than happy to see him. In fact, Goku wouldn't be surprised of the man decided to shoot him upon sight. Now the only person he had business with was Homura, as the god was the one in possession of the scriptures. He didn't _need_ Goku to lead him there; the layout was simple enough, making it nearly impossible for one to get lost.

That wasn't what made him squirm. Goku was worried about Homura.

There had been something too cold, too business-like in the man's demeanor once they had reached the throne room. Something was off about the whole ordeal. He couldn't place his finger on it, but Goku _knew_.

He was scared. He didn't want to admit it, but he was definitely scared.

A muffled crash sounded below. Goku didn't have to wonder what it was; he knew. Konzen and his group had arrived, and things were going to get rolling whether he wanted them to or not.


	29. Chapter TwentyNine

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: K+

Pairings: Gojyo/Hakkai

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, shounen ai

Notes: Early update since I won't be here for the weekend to do it.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Nine_

He was as uneasy about leaving Hakkai behind as Gojyo was. Sanzo admitted it, though only to himself. And it didn't have anything to do with being attached; it was merely that they were up against gods, and they would need all the muscle and intelligence they could get. Which, he thought in annoyance, they were now notably lacking in the latter department. Even so, he said nothing to Gojyo about it; he wasn't in the mood for a fight.

But he _was_ ill at ease. That didn't mean he had to twitch every damn second. And if Gojyo didn't _stop_ twitching, however subtly, Sanzo was going to give him a damn good reason to.

Atop his shoulder, seeming to sense his owner's anxiety, Hakuryuu hesitantly butted Sanzo's head just behind his ear. The man reached up, giving the dragon a quick pet of thanks he would never voice, even to an animal.

"Feels like everything is going too fast," muttered the redhead beside him. Surprisingly, Sanzo agreed. Something should have slowed them down... and yet, nothing did. More and more, it really was becoming obvious that they were missing something vital in their team.

Shoving the idiotic notion out of his mind, Sanzo placed his hand on the door before them. He gave a firm push, and to his mild surprise it opened easily.

The first thing he noticed was the smell of food. It was strong, coming in a mingle of several scents; well-cooked meat, all types of rice cooked in rich soy sauce, fresh fruits, and countless others that escaped him in the heavenly mixture. He narrowed his eyes skeptically, refusing to be allured. He caught sight of the long table of food. From the corner of his vision, he saw Gojyo looking equally apprehensive.

"Welcome," a pleasant, unfamiliar voice said. Light in the room blossomed, taking the focus off the fantastic feast set before them. Seven robed men, all with crimson chakras in the middle of their foreheads, stood at the other end of the long table. "We've been waiting for you."

"You and everyone else here," Gojyo sneered.

Sanzo rolled his eyes. If nothing else, he certainly had _that_ right. "What's with the extravagancies?"

The god smirked, waving a hand over the table. "Really, now," he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. "This was Lord Homura's wish. He wanted you to have one final meal. If you're worried about poisoning, you needn't be," he added just as Sanzo opened his mouth to retort. "Lord Homura wouldn't stoop to such low tactics."

To his right, Gojyo whistled through his teeth. "Did you hear that, Blondie?" he asked.

"That their leader is not only an arrogant bastard, but they have a false perception of him?" Sanzo replied acidly. The memory of his scriptures being stolen from him was all too fresh in his memory. That Homura didn't "stoop to such low tactics" was a complete and utter lie. Breaking his goddamn _hand_ had been a cheating blow.

"Laugh all you want," another god snapped. "But you're the ones who are going to die here."

"Enough," the first god said sharply, turning back to the two with another condescending smile. "Really, now, these hostilities have no purpose. Please, have a seat." He stepped forward, pulling out a chair. "We can have a chat over dinner and wine-- perhaps we can make you see this is for the best. After all, Lord Homura only does this for the good of this world, and we merely live to serve him and his ideals."

As soon as he said that, Sanzo knew whose fight this would be. He hung back, folding his arms over his chest and biting back his sarcastic remarks. As he had once told someone, there were three things he hated most in the world; psychos, worms, and the rain. While these _gentlemen_ grated on his nerves, he knew the man beside him was far more pissed than he.

Indeed, it was Gojyo who stepped forward, his steps sure and eyes half-hidden in shadows. It came as no surprise to Sanzo when the half-breed gave the table a violent kick, sending its contents flying. Food scattered everywhere; fragile china and glass shattered on the floor and walls.

"You people really piss me off. Rather," the redhead added coldly. "What pisses me off is that you're so _eager_ to be someone's lapdog."

He definitely had _that_ right, Sanzo decided. He took the distraction as an opportunity to take a better look around. That was when he found the double doors to the side.

As he started toward it, one of the gods protested. "You can't go--"

A chain of silver just barely missed Sanzo, the crescent blade of Gojyo's _shakujyo_ embedding itself into the wall. The blonde hardly blinked, though he swore to get the half-breed back for the narrow miss later.

"Well, Master Sanzo," Gojyo began mockingly. As always, the nickname made Sanzo's eyebrow twitch. "It looks like you're on your own now."

Scoffing, the man replied without turning, "I don't need your help, anyway."

"Suit yourself." Even without looking, the priest knew his companion was smirking. This fight, to him, was going to be easy, maybe even let off some building stress. As though sensing things would only get ugly here, Hakuryuu let out a _kyuu_ of protest before leaving his perch on his owner's shoulder. The dragon circled above Sanzo's head, then hovered in midair, facing Gojyo as though sensing something ominous that neither of them could.

Without a word, Sanzo opened the doors and came face-to-face with Son Goku.

-

Weary but determined to go on, his fingers scrabbled across the floor as he blindly searched for what he needed. He encountered several bodies and hot, thick blood before finally grasping the cold metallic clips. Relieved, Hakkai sat back on his heels, hurriedly fastening them to one of his pointed ears. His fingers kept slipping, and he dropped the limiters several times before he could get them on properly. His ears softened, melted down, grew round beneath his touch, and then he was only left feeling weak and drained.

His head was light, almost feathery. The man slowly got to his feet, taking a few moments to make sure he could stand balanced. He waited, listening, feeling for any sign of life or movement. At this point, any little mistake could prove deadly.

There was nothing.

He felt no relief in that; just a moment to ease his tense limbs and replenish as much energy as he could before continuing his quest onward. The muscles in his neck were bunched together, and he had to manually massage them into relaxing. It hurt his torn shoulder, but thankfully the wound didn't reopen much. At least, when he touched it, most of the blood was flakey or drying.

He had to find the exit. During the fight, much of his central energy had been depleted, so locating it through his _chi_ -- as he had grown used to -- was now difficult. He could "see" hazy images in his mind, but in his state Hakkai was unable to tell a curtain from a solid steel gate.

Though humiliating, he eventually resorted to crawling to find his way about. Wryly, he thought that it was good he had killed all the god-demons; nobody could catch him in such an unsightly position. While he wasn't as arrogant as some, he still had his dignity to preserve.

After what seemed like hours, and he hoped was only minutes, he finally reached a doorway he believed to be the correct way out. Hakkai paused to wipe his bloodied hands on his jeans before using the handle to pull himself up. A bad habit to pick up, yes, but he couldn't stand the strong scent of blood. That and he only would have fallen again since the liquid would have made it hard to keep a firm hold on the door.

His foot connected with a stair. An intense wave of relief flooded him; he had chosen the right path. He felt for the handrail. The man began his treacherous ascent, stumbling too often, and inwardly berating himself for being too cocky during the fight. Hakkai had thought he could handle his demonic form and the power that came with it, but had forgotten that, in such a condition, his grasp of common sense often faltered.

Well, at least no one was perfect.

His shoulder cried out in agony with each pull on the railing, and he had to grit his teeth in order to not cry out. As he walked, his thoughts wandered. That was dangerous, since he knew his life depended on keeping his wits about him -- especially in his now acutely dangerous predicament -- but the gallivanting of his psyche was hardly controllable.

Interestingly enough, he thought of Gojyo's apology. Hakkai had known full well what it was for, had certainly been grateful for it, and it wasn't until now that he realized the full extent of it. Not just the concession itself, but of the entire situation surrounding it.

How odd, he thought. How odd to wonder if there was a chance his and Gojyo's relationship went beyond that of mere friends, in this time and place.

Then again, stranger things had happened in his life. Considering the ironies life kept throwing at him, why _not_ ponder such a concept in the face of death?

The higher he went, the more he became aware of the energies above him. At first Hakkai thought he felt eight beings, and then one died and he was left with seven. Within seconds he could only count four, and by the time he stumbled into the room even that had been cut in half.

He was still weak, but could discern one of the lives as Gojyo's. With a mildly self-mocking smile, he leaned against the doorway and said, "My... did I miss all the fun?"

"Yo," Gojyo greeted. Hakkai remembered enough of the man's face to picture his smug expression. "Just one more to go. It took you damn long enough, you know." There was a strangled cry that definitely wasn't familiar. Hakkai decided it was his companion's last adversary.

"My apologies," he said, half sincere. "I had a little more trouble than I imagined."

"You think?" Gojyo snorted.

Hakkai opened his mouth to reply, but stopped short. Something felt off. There was a new sensation in the air, that of a faint life. It was similar to a sole flower's energy; dim but pulsing with the steady beat of existence. However, _this_ wasn't so much like a flower as it was...

_Magic,_ Hakkai realized. Belatedly, he said in a sharp warning, "Gojyo, get back!"

Even as he opened his mouth the magic was shifting, expanding and reaching out as eagerly as a starved child for food. The clack of beads reached Hakkai's ears, as well as Gojyo's curse. There was another strangled cry that was cut short, and the brunette could only imagine that Gojyo had killed him.

"It's still there," he said quietly, sliding to the floor. He didn't want to, but his legs refused to support him anymore. Weakly resting his head against the jamb, he continued, "The magic, Gojyo..."

"What magic?" the other man demanded. The annoyance in his voice slipped into a betraying note of fear; apprehension.

Shaking his head, Hakkai could only reply, "I'm not sure..."

"Hell," Gojyo said in disgust, obviously trying to wave it off. "The spineless bastard was muttering something about some _Kaizai_ curse, but it has to be a bunch of bullsh--"

The expletive was cut short, and Hakkai vaguely understood why. The energy had ceased the random movement and had found a solid form. It had centered into one place, likely just a few yards away from them.

"Shit," Gojyo said faintly, though Hakkai wasn't sure if it was a finish of the old curse or a new one for a different reason. All the brunette knew was that the fear rolling off his friend was so strong and intense that it penetrated even through the haze filming his mind.

-

The light dimmed, though it didn't fade completely. As Homura lowered his arms, the scriptures fell with thick, papery thuds to the floor. He looked up, the mass of teal energy writhing in a reptile fashion above him. It was sensuous, hypnotizing, and took a lot of willpower to look away from.

Things were finally on their way to completion. All the New World Recipe required now was the earth's power. And that, he knew, could be found in the earth's child: Seiten Taisei Son Goku.

His heart beat too rapidly to let him fool himself into thinking that maybe, just maybe, the earlier attack hadn't been as much of a forewarning as he'd thought. With a heavy sigh, he stepped away from the pentagram.

Alarmed, Zenon said, "Hey, wait--"

"The pentagram no longer needs us," Homura assured him, hoping his exhaustion didn't show through. He knelt down to pick up the Maten scripture. He left the Seiten sutra where it was; he didn't need _that_ for his bargain. "We have fulfilled our duties."

Reluctantly, Zenon stepped away, and Shien followed suite. Really, Homura couldn't blame either of them for not wanting to move. After all, he had been the first to really be amazed and enticed by the mass amount of power, even if he hadn't outwardly shown it.

"One more ingredient needed," he murmured, and then turned with a flourishing sweep of his cape. "Let's go."

"As you wish," Shien agreed.

Zenon merely grunted, hoisted his gun on his shoulder, and followed them out.

-

Sanzo wondered why he didn't shoot the boy.

Their footsteps were the only sounds in the vast, seemingly endless halls and stairways. Goku walked a couple feet in front of him, though the boy constantly glanced back. When he realized Sanzo was still glaring, the brunette always shifted his gaze away, his demeanor as that of a child caught doing something he knew he shouldn't be doing.

The silence was unnerving. Sanzo was hard-pressed to decide which he found more annoying; the boy's quiescence, or his loud chatter. Both had numerous disadvantageous qualities... but in the end, the man knew it was the quiet that disturbed him most. He was _used_ to Goku talking. That was practically all the boy had done ever since they had first met.

Damn it all. He just couldn't win either way, could he? And here he was supposed to drag the brat west with them. _Only if I'm allowed to take him dead,_ Sanzo thought irritably.

"How's your hand?"

The tentative inquiry was startling after such a long silence. The blonde stared at Goku blankly, pausing in his steps. The brunette stopped as well, his brilliant golden eyes fixed on a point past Sanzo's head.

It seemed he was scared to meet his gaze. _Good,_ Sanzo decided.

"Shut up and mind your own business," he said icily, despite his earlier considerations. He started to walk past the boy, but to his surprise (and possibly Goku's) the brunette reached out and grasped the robes bunched at the priest's waist. He had let down the top of his robes earlier, not wanting any hindrances he couldn't afford.

"Let go," he ordered.

Goku flinched and immediately obeyed, but he spoke out anyway. "It was your own fault, you know." His voice trembled slightly. Though Sanzo noticed, he still wasn't in the mood to get into petty arguments, so he chose to ignore it. "You're just too stubborn."

Disgusted, Sanzo shot back, "And you're an idiot."

"I am _not_!" Goku bristled, his voice hot. "Why are you always callin' me that! I've gotta be pretty damn smart to kick _all three_ of your guys' asses!"

"Muscle and intelligence aren't the same thing, monkey," Sanzo returned flatly. "And you're the ones who made a stupid request in the first place." He started walking again, and this time it was Goku who followed.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Goku muttered. "It's just a piece of paper."

Sanzo felt his blood rush in a sudden surge of heat, and he resisted the urge to smack the boy silly. He's just a moron, the blonde had to keep reminding himself. Morons were born the way they are. Aloud, he said, "Well, it certainly isn't 'just a piece of paper' to your leader, is it?"

There was a brief silence after that, one that went on so long Sanzo was sure he'd finally shut the boy up.

Instead, Goku finally said, "It's not... I know it has powers an' stuff... but..."

Growing impatient as the brunette hesitated again, Sanzo growled, "But what?"

"You don't seem the type," Goku finally admitted. "To want power, I mean. I just... I get the feeling that if someone offered you the world and everything in it, you'd call them stupid and never speak to them again."

This time it was Sanzo's turn to stop. He turned back to the boy, staring at him in disbelief. Why, he wondered bitterly, was the kid always hitting so close to home? Why was he constantly predicting the most abstract things about him, when most others couldn't? For as long as he had known Goku, the boy had never been able to predict anything he thought. Rather, he only seemed to understand what Sanzo often never put into words; he sensed intangible, deeply ingrained notions and ideas.

Hakuryuu squeaked, reminding Sanzo of the dragon's presence. He absently reached up, rubbing the tiny, scaly head to let Hakuryuu know he hadn't forgotten him. At the same time, it gave him something -- anything -- to do while he gathered his thoughts.

"You really are an idiot," Sanzo muttered faintly, gripping the handrail tightly. Goku just shrugged, so the blonde decided to continue their journey upward.

"An idiot," Sanzo repeated after a few more minutes of unbearable silence. "Do you even have any idea what Homura's plans are?" He was aware that at this point he was only trying to fill the silence, but he could hardly care less.

Sounding offended, Goku said, "Of course I do. He told me what he wanted when he released me from the cave."

Ignoring the sudden tingling sense of déjà vu, Sanzo said, "Enlighten me. It's not like we have anything better to talk about."

"He wants to create a new world, a perfect one," the boy replied, his voice tight. "Because this one is tainted, and..." He paused. "He wants a place to... escape to, I guess."

"You guess, huh?"

"Well..." Now the boy sounded uncomfortable. "I don't know... all the reasons. And some of the ones I _do_ know are... none of your business," he finished, clearly mimicking the man from earlier.

Scoffing, Sanzo muttered, "Sounds more like you just don't want to talk about them."

"Maybe," Goku relented. "But it's still none of your business."

"We'll see," the priest stated flatly, coming to a stop. A large set of unusually elaborately decorated doors stood proudly before them; unusual, because all of the entrances to new rooms had been, thus far, plain and simple.

"He's in there," Goku said from behind him.

Narrowing his eyes, very well aware that this was more than likely a trap, Sanzo stepped forward. He pushed the doors open, using a lot more strength than he'd realized he would have to use. They were heavier than they looked.

Inside the room was bland in contrast to the doors. The rocky pillars each supported a flaming torch, and the walls were filled with cracks and blemishes that somehow looked intentional. A long, royal red carpet started a meter from the door and continued several yards into the room and up to a throne-like chair. In that chair, and on either side of it, were the people he had come to see. With a smirk, Homura stood.

"Welcome back, Goku. And it is a pleasure to see you again, Genjo Sanzo."


	30. Chapter Thirty

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: T

Pairings: Homura/Goku, Hakkai/Gojyo, mentioned past Homura/Rinrei and Gonou/Kanan

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, shounen ai, mild violence, abuse

Notes: Thanks for all the feedback thus far. We're nearing the end slowly but gradually, and I'm just grateful to all those who stuck it out with this story, even with my shaky updating recently. You guys rock.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Thirty_

"Mother..."

Terror trilled through Hakkai's chest. The simple utterance had been choked with so much emotion; fear, agony, desperation, love. The last was the weakest, but still apparent. Hakkai could only conclude that Gojyo was seeing his stepmother-- who, from what little the man knew about his companion's past, was supposedly dead.

He could sense no physical body; there was only magic, shimmering and swelling and hovering. Hakkai realized he would be unable to attack her.

"Gojyo."

The whisper had come from him, but at the very same moment a female's voice had murmured the name as well. It was a haunting tone, the kind that one would expect a lost soul to use. Though he knew little to nothing of Gojyo's stepmother, Hakkai had the unshakable, sickening feeling that what she was about to do would be unpleasant-- whether or not he could see it.

And perhaps he knew _that_ because of the sudden, frightening aggrandizement of Gojyo's fear. Even at their distance (which he had to estimate by sound alone, and still in his weakened state he could tell it was fairly far) Hakkai could hear the man's heavy, nervous breathing. A footstep echoed, then another, and another, each slower than the last as he could sense Gojyo slowly backing up. The man was moving toward him, toward the door, toward the only escape route he knew, but he stopped after those three steps.

Hakkai realized why. The despair had paralyzed him.

"Gojyo," the deep, womanly voice murmured. An icy chill ran down Hakkai's back.

Without warning, there was a sudden meaty sound of metal hitting flesh. When Gojyo cried out, Hakkai was horrified to realize that, while impalpable, Gojyo's mother was still capable of harming them. Or perhaps, just in harming her "damned" son.

"Mother, don't..." The childish plea in the half-breed's voice tore at Hakkai's emotions. He winced, feeling himself begin to shake against the doorframe. It was terrible to realize there was nothing he could do; he was too drained to harm her. Even if he could, and even if he was sure he could cause her pain, his muscles refused to move.

It was as though his brain insisted he listen to each cry Gojyo made. He hadn't suffered enough in his life; no. As he had been forced to watch Kanan commit suicide, now he had to listen to the one person he'd let himself even begin to open up to be beaten to death.

"Gojyo," he protested, trying to raise his voice over the woman's ghostly sobs and Gojyo's emissions of pain. "Gojyo, she's not real. I can't sense her living at all!"

His words must have gotten through, because instead of metal hitting flesh again, it now hit rock. Either she had missed, or Gojyo had finally mustered the strength to dodge her beating. Hakkai hoped it was the latter.

"What did you say?" Gojyo said breathlessly.

"Didn't you once tell me she died?" Hakkai asked. He had never been told how she'd been killed, or why, or who had done it. Gojyo hadn't pried into his business with Kanan, and likewise Hakkai had respected his privacy. When he finally told Gojyo about Kanan, their incestuous relationship, their love, her suicide, it had been because _he_ had felt comfortable enough. And by then, he had trusted Gojyo.

As though thinking the same thing, Gojyo grunted an affirmative. There was a scuffling sound indicating he had to dodge again, and a loud sweep as something heavy but thin was swung.

"So," Gojyo growled. "Just an illusion. In that case, you can--"

But before he could tell the ghostly woman what she _could_ do, the man's voice cut off into a strangled gasp. The sound wasn't forced; she wasn't choking him. Rather, it was as though he had just seen something horrible.

There was another terrible sound that jerked at Hakkai's chest, and that was the sound of sobbing. For a wild moment he thought it might be Gojyo, but almost immediately realized that it couldn't be. Even in a situation as bad as this, Gojyo wouldn't cry-- at least, not if Hakkai was present. He had too much pride for that.

It was his stepmother. Or rather, the illusion of her. She was crying, and somehow Hakkai knew it was the same sobbing that haunted Gojyo's dreams at night.

The beating sounds began again and Hakkai felt like screaming in frustration. The air was filled with mass confusion, every particle pulled into tight coils of dread and pain and hopelessness and the frantic hope for death. Hakkai was sweating, and he hadn't moved an inch. His body continued to shake, his shoulders knocking against the wood beside him. He wanted to do something, anything, to get that woman off Gojyo and ease the bombard of negative emotions slamming into him from every which direction.

Somewhere amidst the turmoil he felt new presences. They were familiar and yet not, as though he had sensed them before, but not long enough to really get to know them.

When the sudden sharp voice rang out, he could place them instantly.

"Do I have to save you again, Gojyo?"

-

At the sound of Homura's voice, Goku nearly ran forward. The man shot him a quick glance that made him stop even before he'd moved; reluctantly, he stayed put.

To his left, Sanzo sneered. "Whatever happened to Konzen?"

"I'll call you whatever you wish," Homura said silkily, clearly amused. He walked down the short flight of steps from the throne to the floor, stopping when he was at their level. "I have a proposal. A deal, you might say."

"And what makes you think I'd be interested?" Sanzo returned.

Goku took a deep breath, clenching his fists as he tried to calm his nerves. He had to remind himself that it was all right; Homura knew what he was doing, he was handling things just fine, nothing was going to go wrong...

"Because it involves the return of your scripture," Homura said easily. "I no longer require its use. You may have it."

What was he doing? Goku stared at the man, puzzled. Why would they go through so much trouble just to give the scriptures back? They'd only had it a short while.

"So what's the catch?" Sanzo asked skeptically.

"It's not so much of a catch as it is an exchange," Homura replied. He regarded the blonde with an intense look, though he seemed uninterested in the man. It was a strange expression, and Goku began to squirm. He wished Homura would at least glance his way.

"And?"

Homura smirked. "Just return what's mine."

Goku was at a complete loss. _What the hell's he getting at?_ he wondered, grimacing as the muscles in his chest pulled taut. Anxiety was gnawing restlessly at him now.

But while he was confused, Sanzo seemed to understand. His violet eyes widened a bare noticeable fraction, and he sharply looked over at the boy. Goku stared back, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make out what the man was thinking. Sanzo said nothing, his lips compressing into a thin white line.

He finally turned back to Homura. "He's not mine to give," he stated flatly.

"Huh?" Goku blinked, looking back and forth between them. "Homura... what are you--"

"You may be oblivious," Homura cut in. His voice didn't grow any louder, but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut Goku off in mid-sentence. "Both of you, really. But I am not." The tension in his expression eased as he fell back into one of his trademark smirks. "And even if you don't understand what I mean, Konzen, think of it this way: as soon as you departed from your other companions, you came into contact with Goku. You followed him all the way up here-- or perhaps he followed you. Either is likely, really."

"Get to the point," Sanzo growled impatiently.

Privately, Goku wished Homura wouldn't. The bad feeling was so horrible, he was beginning to think he was sick.

"I am merely making everything easier on you," Homura said patiently. "It never occurred to you that you could have used my lover against me in order to get your scriptures back?"

"Homura!" Goku blushed hotly, though he wasn't sure why Homura's blunt statement was so embarrassing. Perhaps it was because, up until this point, he had managed to keep their real relationship something of a secret from Sanzo. Why this was important, he didn't know, but it was.

Sanzo's eyebrow twitched. "Just take him."

"It has to be an exchange," Homura sighed. "Please make this civilized, Konzen."

The longer their banter continued, the tenser the atmosphere became. Not just between Sanzo and Homura, but around Goku in general. This went beyond discomfort. Homura was behaving strangely, even for him.

"Homura," he cut in quickly before Sanzo could retort. "You're acting _weird_. Can't we just give it to him and go?" He began to walk forward, and that was where things went horribly wrong.

Narrowing his eyes, Homura moved faster than Goku could comprehend. He was standing before the boy within half a second, leaving Goku blinking in surprise. Blue and gold pierced into him, hardened into something close to anger. It couldn't be hatred; Goku refused to believe that.

"It is time," Homura started, his voice deadly quiet. "Time for you to learn what this is all for, and what the consequences will be. Understand that no matter how much you may end up opposing this, _you_ have blindly helped me get this far. For that, I thank you."

Goku stared at the man helplessly. "Homura, what--"

"Quiet," Homura ordered. His voice was sharp, cutting the boy off effectively. Stunned, Goku took a step back; the god let him. "Now listen to me. You too, Konzen, if you wish to learn exactly what purpose the Seiten and Maten scriptures served."

"Seiten..." Sanzo whispered faintly behind Goku. The boy hardly heard it. He couldn't stop staring at Homura.

Likewise, the man ignored Sanzo's murmur. "In order to create a new world, several things are needed. The key element is power. Power from the scriptures. Power from Zenon, Shien, and myself. Power from everything around us, from the center of the earth-- and from the earth's child. In other words, Goku, power from you."

"But I'm not--"

Rather than speak, Homura clamped a hand over the boy's mouth. Goku cringed; his grip hurt. But he shut up, preferring silence over risking his lover's wrath.

"You are the child of the earth," the man said firmly. "Seiten Taisei Son Goku, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Once you lived in the heavens, and it was there you committed the crime that caused you to be imprisoned in the cave."

He went on to say more, but that was where Goku ceased to listen. He stared at the man, fear overriding his disbelief. The heavens? The very same place Homura despised? Goku couldn't remember anything resembling the heavens, though that didn't say much for an amnesiac. But he couldn't have been there, simply _couldn't_ have, because he didn't want to have anything to do with the gods his lover hated.

Seeming to mistake his blank expression for something else, Homura sighed. "Perhaps I ought to explain it in terms you will understand." Goku opened his mouth to protest, to tell him that he hadn't been listening, not that he didn't comprehend the man's words, but Homura spoke before he could get a word in edgewise. "Think of this world as a complex dish. Perhaps a stir fry, or dim sum. Either way, you have several ingredients that must be observed well, cooked right, and you must keep practicing lest you lose your skills. More than likely, your first attempt will be a failure-- or at least, not what you expected.

"Now, think of this world as that first attempt at making the dish. The meat was added to late, and is too raw to be edible. The vegetables were added too soon, and are now too burnt to even taste decent. Too much sauce was added, and now the contents swim in a sea of bitter salt. When you bite into it, all you taste is a vile, wet charcoal mixture."

Here the man paused, seeming to contemplate his next words. "What I'm going to do is start over fresh. Unlike the gods in the heavens, I know which ingredient to leave out-- or rather, which tool. Perhaps the first attempt at creating Heaven and Earth was a failure because the chef was foolish in having an assistant." His eyes narrowed, but he was no longer looking directly at Goku. Instead, he seemed to be focusing on something only he could see in his mind. "The gods are the ones who added the meat too late and didn't give it proper time to cook, who tossed in perfectly good vegetables too early only to burn them, who threw in as much sauce as possible to make up for their past mistakes. The gods are the only ones making this world imperfect. But they cannot be rid of in this world. Thus, we need a new world."

Goku's blood ran cold at the explanation. Homura had made his point clear, at least in his eyes; if there was one thing the boy understood, it was the concept of food and taste. Of all the comparisons to make, Homura's had been nearly flawless-- in explanation. What he was suggesting didn't bode well with him.

"A totally new world?" he asked uncertainly. "I mean... I knew you'd be making one... but... you're throwing away the old world in order to do it?"

"Essentially," Homura agreed.

Goku shifted uncomfortably. "I... I thought... that there'd be both worlds, side by side. So we could go back and forth..."

The man sighed. "Don't be foolish. The creation of the new world has already begun. The gods are alert. At this point, they will do whatever is in their power to stop the process. They know the threat; _realize_ the threat. Even if the worlds _could_ somehow share the earth's energy and coexist, the gods would be vehemently against it." A wry smile curved his lips. "Either that, or they would take over that world as well. If it exists, and it is not theirs, they will make it so. Anything that they cannot control in even the slightest, they fear."

"It's not like we expect you to get it," Zenon said, abruptly reminding Goku that other people were present. "We've been alive centuries longer than even you, kid. We've been watching. I think we'd know what's best."

It was then Goku's heart sank. If even Zenon was all for this, unconditionally for this world's destruction, then he had absolutely no one he knew to turn to. Shien was out of the question; they never had gotten along well. Homura was obviously set in his ways, and now Zenon -- the man Goku had finally come to accept as a surrogate brother -- had just proven that Goku was entirely alone in his thoughts: that this new world overtaking the old one was definitely _not_ a good idea.

"Really," Sanzo said from behind the boy, his voice laden with sarcasm. "Basically what you're saying is, your gods have a superiority complex, yet you're better than them? I don't see how that makes you _any_ different."

Zenon's vehement reaction visibly startled even Homura. "Don't you _even_ try lumping us in with those bastards," the man growled, starting forward. He might have done some damage, had Shien not quickly placed a hand on his companion's shoulder. Perhaps he had foreseen irreversible damage Zenon couldn't, for the gunman fell back only with the greatest of reluctance.

Acting as though the small interruption had never taken place, Homura fixed his gaze on Goku again. "You are the vital tool in this cause. As a child of the earth, you are the one who possesses the powers needed to create the new world to overtake this one. Through you, I can siphon the earth's energy."

Goku shook his head furiously. Everything was moving too fast suddenly; much too fast. "Can't we just... at least make the new world and bring some good stuff into it?"

Homura sighed. "You're missing the point. This world is damaged beyond repair."

"But you can't just get rid of it," the boy protested loudly. He was dimly aware his voice was rapidly growing high-pitched, but couldn't take the time to calm down. "There are lots of good things in this world, too!"

"You only say that because of your relationship with Konzen," his lover said quietly.

The blood drained from Goku's face. He looked over his shoulder at Sanzo, unsure of how to react to that. He didn't want to admit Homura was right, but... in truth, he was. Or at least, he was partially correct. Sanzo was one of the many things Goku liked about the world he lived in now.

"It's... not just that," he said shakily. "There's... there're some good people. And really good food, and lots of neat places." He remembered Mariko as he said that; recalled her sarcastic and biting demeanor. He also remembered the kind actions that betrayed her, painting her in a gentler light Goku wouldn't have thought of if he remembered her words alone.

The memory of several restaurants he had eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner at with his companions flashed by then. In an instant he could smell every delicious aroma that had ever touched his senses.

He had traveled the continent in his three years with Homura, partly for the sake of training, mostly because the man had been determined to find Rinrei's grave. There had been times Goku had been absolutely bored out of his mind, and times he had wished he had been anywhere but where he was. Now, though, he could look back and say that little had been wasted.

Lamely, he finished. "I like this world, Homura."

The ebon-haired man closed his eyes briefly, as though tired. Slowly, he said, "I only released you from the cave so I could use that power of yours." The comment stung, though not as much as the exasperated tone he used. Goku flinched. "You will either give me that power, or I will force it from you."

The last cold statement sparked what nothing else so far had: anger. Goku took a step back, though not out of fear. "Now wait just a--"

"Either come with me now," Homura said sharply, cutting the boy off before he could protest properly. "Or go with Konzen. I _will_ have that power either way. The method in which I have to obtain it is up to you."

This was stupid. This was absolutely _insane._ Goku didn't want to believe it was happening, and yet he knew this was something he couldn't escape. He glanced away from Homura and to Zenon. The gunman didn't meet his gaze, looking determinedly at the wall; he was with Homura on this, but couldn't bring himself to look the boy in the eye. Reluctantly, Goku turned to Shien. The god said nothing, his lips compressed. For once his expression was readable, and had the man chosen to speak, Goku knew he would have said exactly what was on his mind.

_"I told you before. You are not one of us."_

Now he finally understood why he had felt like an outsider this entire time. It was because, somewhere deep in his subconscious, he had realized that whatever Homura was up to, he wouldn't approve. In the one thing that really mattered, the core reason for everything Homura had done for the past few years -- maybe even few _centuries_ -- Goku was, had always been, on the opposite side of the severed bridge.

A sudden flapping sound brought him back to the present, and the weight of something on his shoulder made Goku start. He blinked and turned his head, surprised to see the white dragon perched on him. Beady red eyes stared back, and a squeaky "_Kyuu_," escaped the animal. The tiny head nudged his ear, as though urging him to make a choice.

Strangely enough, that was all he needed to make his decision.

With a scowl, Goku regarded Homura with both dread and determination. "Then you're just gonna have to force it out of me, because I ain't helping you anymore."


	31. Chapter ThirtyOne

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: T

Pairings: Homura/Goku, hinted Gojyo/Hakkai and Yaone+Kougaiji

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, violence, language, mild shounen ai

Notes: I like how everyone is making guesses toward the ending. Thank you for that, actually. It's fun seeing readers contemplate the plot.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-One_

If there had been blood, the guilt probably would have been unbearable. As it was, all Gojyo had to do was impale the ghost of his mother. Her body spasmed horribly, too realistically, and for a moment he thought he would be sick.

But no crimson trickled down the _shakujyo_; no coppery scent wafted out to sting his senses and weaken him. She merely emitted a strangled noise, and then was gone. Just like that, as if she had never existed in the first place.

Relieved, Gojyo dropped his weapon.

"Gojyo..."

The slightly hoarse voice reminded him that they had onlookers. Quickly, he dismissed the _shakujyo_ back to where it belonged, giving him the room to support Hakkai. The brunette's left shoulder was torn badly, and blood that was both his own and not splattered across his clothes. The blind man gratefully accepted Gojyo's help.

"You overwork yourself again?" the redhead asked, a touch of exasperation only somewhat covering the concern in his voice.

Hakkai chuckled weakly. "It's a bad habit of mine, I suppose."

"You think?" From the corner of his eye, Gojyo noted that Jien -- no, Dokugakuji; he couldn't think of that man as his brother anymore -- looked somewhat uncomfortable.

Hakkai didn't seem to notice, and that alarmed Gojyo. If he couldn't sense what others were feeling, even just a faint change in someone's _chi_, then he must have depleted a lot of his energy. That couldn't bode well for later on.

"Listening to you was bad for my heart," his companion murmured.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a real heartbreaker," Gojyo said, shifting his hand on the man's side.

"If we're done here," a new voice broke in, rough and commanding, "then I suggest we get a move on."

_Return of his Royal Highness, Prince Pain-in-the-Ass,_ Gojyo couldn't help thinking. He knew better than to say it aloud, of course; he had no doubts that his brother would choose the demon prince over his own diluted flesh and blood. Plus, if there was one thing he knew about women, it was that pushing the wrong buttons could set them off. Yaone may have seemed sweet-tempered, but Gojyo wasn't about to risk his head -- or other important parts of his anatomy -- just to insult her leader.

So, with that in mind, he merely kept his hold on Hakkai as they followed the group upstairs. And until the brunette mentioned it, Gojyo didn't realize anything was wrong.

"Maybe what I'm sensing is off," the man murmured, just loud enough for Gojyo to hear. "But aren't we missing someone?"

Gojyo blinked. _Well, isn't that obvious?_ He knew then that Hakkai must have been exhausted. "Sanzo," he reminded him.

Hakkai shook his head. "No... not us."

Then Gojyo understood. Kougaiji's group had always consisted of four, just as Homura's had. And now they only had three-- just as their own coterie did.

_So the kid is missing,_ he thought. Knowing that, it was suddenly very clear that the demon prince's face was pinched too tight, that Yaone's stride was too brisk for her seemingly timid nature, that his own brother even seemed unsettled.

Gojyo wondered if he should say something to break the uncomfortable silence. He might have, had they not reached the stairs, and had Kougaiji not pushed the doors open at that instant. The sight of a familiar brown-haired boy being thrown backward into a nearby wall immediately erased the redhead's previous thoughts, and then he only had the time to wonder what the hell was going on.

------

He had no idea how the situation had come to this, but Genjo Sanzo was, for once, utterly confused. His perplexity was such that he couldn't summon up any other reaction, even when the boy narrowly missed him when the war god threw him back.

Rock crumbled as Goku hit the wall behind him, and Sanzo almost flinched. Almost. Instead, he turned to look at the brunette; surely he was unconscious. The boy crumpled to the floor with a sickening thud.

To his amazement, Goku stirred. He pushed himself up, righteous fury flaring in his golden eyes. The expression was demonic, and stirred a vague image in the back of the priest's mind. Sanzo couldn't quite place his finger on it, and now he knew it was going to bother him until he could see it.

Wordlessly, the boy gave a loud cry, lunging forward again. The movement was fast enough to stir Sanzo's hair, as well as his loose robes. He stared blankly as the fight continued. Goku would strike, Homura would dodge; Goku press himself to the floor, Homura would anticipate and attack. The war god was getting the most hits in, Sanzo noticed... and yet, the match somehow seemed even.

Because Goku's blows were almost as powerful, the man suddenly realized. When he did manage to hit Homura, it was hard enough to send the man staggering. Plus, it was the boy who had the smaller stature, and thus could move around without being as easy of a target. Homura didn't have that advantage.

Not to mention, Goku had been provoked into fighting in the first place. While normally such a thing would make a warrior sloppier, somehow the boy managed to retain just enough awareness to keep his aim precise, his swings powerful, and keep the ability to dodge without being blind sighted by fury. He was... remarkable.

Sanzo was unsettled to admit that even to himself. Still, he had to admit that sort of strength would be useful, and it was pure physical strength that they sometimes lacked...

Unexpectedly, the boy's fist slammed into the side of Homura's jaw. Time seemed to freeze in that instant, and they were locked, each staring at each other; Goku shaken and furious, Homura mildly surprised and strangely cold... but even then, Sanzo caught the strangest glimmer in both gazes, one of sheer animalistic delight. Despite the circumstances, even after the boy's betrayal, they were _enjoying_ the fight.

How stupid, Sanzo thought. The strongest beings in the world were also the most idiotic.

Just as he finished thinking that, time fell back into place. The clock spun forward again, and Homura was thrown backward. He stumbled, but didn't completely fall, though his gaze was directed downward. When he raised his face again, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Goku seemed stunned. His former mentor wiped the red off with his thumb, inspected it as though to assure himself it was really his own blood, and then lowered his hand.

"Zenon. Shien." His commanding voice was as strong as ever, not hindered by the damage Goku had done to his jaw. Sanzo thought that if the kid had hit _him_ that hard, his face would have been shattered; at the very least, extremely sore. Yet this arrogant god didn't seem to feel any pain.

At Homura's otherwise wordless orders, two men stepped out from the sidelines. "I hear ya," the tallest of the three said, hoisting his machine gun off his shoulder. "He's strong enough."

Goku stared at the men, his frame shaking. From his position, Sanzo could see the clenched fists, the tense line of his jaw, the thin white line of his lips... this wasn't easy on the kid.

He hated feeling like he should care.

Tension rippled through the air for a few moments. It built friction, as though it were static electricity, until Sanzo could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise. An epiphany dawned on him in the same instant, and with sudden, vicious clarity, he knew the outcome of not only this fight, but the entire war. He knew Goku was going to lose, that he would play a vital tool in whatever the gods had been working for, that they were all going to die.

At least, that was the outcome... _if_ he didn't do something about it.

Despite this strange realization -- or perhaps it was more of a prediction -- Sanzo didn't budge. He watched the battle, but grew increasingly less impassive. His heart was beginning to race, his nerves teetering on the edge of an invisible ravine.

Just yards in front of him, Goku had leapt into the air to avoid an onslaught of bullets. In the same move, he swung his staff out, emitting a loud cry as he descended on another opponent. Anticipating the move, Homura dropped his sword. The weapon clattered to the ground, and the man wasted no time moving; he grasped the chains short of the shackles, pulling them impossibly taut. Goku's staff connected with it, and a loud _clang_ reverberated in the air. Then, almost imperceptibly, the god loosened the chain just enough to throw the boy off balance.

Goku hit the ground hard, landing on his shoulder. A sickening _pop_ reached Sanzo's ears, followed by a startling shout. Only when golden eyes swept up to meet his, wide with more surprise than pain, and only when the fight paused long enough for all gazes to turn on him, did he realize that _he_ had been the one to cry out.

_Shit_.

Even worse, a strange look crossed Homura's face. The man was smirking, his lips curved in a smug expression, but there was something off. Something that reminded Sanzo of himself; a strange sadness. It pissed him off; he didn't want _anything_ about the bastard to remind him of himself.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Goku quickly scrambled back to his feet. He used only one hand to grasp his weapon, the other arm hanging limply and oddly at his side. "Stop paying attention to him!" the boy yelled, swinging his weapon furiously at his former mentor's head.

Homura deftly fell back, retaining his balance with the practiced ease of a feline. He crouched, grasping his sword, but not in a way he had before. Rather than hold it straight, the man gripped it with his knuckles facing the ceiling, elbow bent. Sanzo realized what he was doing and instant too late, though faster than Goku seemed to.

Homura slammed the hilt of his weapon into the boy's gut, the blow hard enough to send Goku staggering again. The brunette's chest heaved as he exhaled painfully, and then thick ropes of light twined around his waist, squeezing. Shien was behind the boy, pulling his whips firmly, a look of utter concentration on his otherwise blank face.

Goku writhed, dropping his weapon to pull at the whips. Agony contorted his features, and Sanzo guessed it was likely made even worse when the boy realized he could only use one arm, and that one arm wasn't enough. He was at a serious disadvantage; even more so when Zenon hefted his machine gun at the boy.

The priest had begun to reach for his robes, startled yet not at all perturbed to find himself so ready to jump to the boy's defense. The tips of his fingers had barely brushed cloth, when suddenly Goku changed his plan.

Despite the pain his lungs were likely in, the boy exhaled sharply, swinging his feet up as he did so. The tip of his boot caught on the orange-haired god's weapon, throwing him off target, but not disarming him. At the same time, the sudden weight straining Shien's whips slackened, and he too was thrown off balance. Goku tumbled back, but had the room he needed to wrench free of the constricting ropes.

The boy scrambled back to his feet, but at the wrong moment, and in the wrong direction. As he stood, his head went forward. He barely had the second he needed to lift his head before the butt of Zenon's gun crashed into his skull. Sanzo inwardly cringed; he could almost feel the boy's pain.

Goku went back down with a grunt. He landed on his bad shoulder, eliciting another scream, but when he stood he seemed able to move his injured arm better-- as though his fall had at least somewhat succeeded in pushing his dislocated shoulder back into place.

Sanzo's hand fell back to his side.

"Not bad," Homura said after a long pause. His voice clearly startled his opponent; even at the distance he was at, Sanzo could see Goku's eyes widen a fraction. "That is exactly the power I need... Son Goku."

Though it may have been imperceptible to some, Sanzo still clearly recognized the pain stabbing through the brunette's gaze. Agony that had not been there before, almost as though _he_ had been the one betrayed... and only after the god had said his full name.

Interesting. Apparently there had been some change Sanzo had been unaware of beforehand. Not that he particularly cared, of course.

"Fine." The word came out in a gritty, almost unrecognizable tone. Hatred. That was something he had never really heard in Goku's voice before. Sanzo's eyes swiveled to the boy, taking in the invisible fury palpitating from Goku's lithe body. "I'll get you for sure, then!" With that the brunette charged forward, swinging his staff with a loud scream of rage.

Their weapons clashed with a resounding clang; metal against fire sword, both straining to push and make the other fall back. But even as Goku displayed his surprising strength, and even if Homura's minions _hadn't_ been nearby to help overcome the boy's strength, Sanzo knew what the outcome would remain the same he had guessed before.

His passive role was beginning to bother him like an itch he couldn't reach. Something dramatic was happening here, something _crucial_. If he didn't step in, Goku would be taken and used for whatever purposes Homura had in mind. What Sanzo was worried about wasn't the boy's fate; it was the simple fact that if things continued on this vein, taking the brat west with them would become a problem. Maybe even impossible.

So why wasn't he lending a hand? Or a bullet, for that matter?

Goku was beginning to get the upper hand in the battle of strength, despite his stature. Still Sanzo wasn't convinced he could win.

And still, through the anger, there was that strange glimmer on the boy's eyes. He was _still_ enjoying the combat. With all the hurt and anger and indifference thrown at him... well, anyone else would have responded in kind. But Goku did that and continued to want to fight.

The epiphany came just as the feud reached its height. The god with a shock of orange hair fired another round of bullets. Goku had to dodge to avoid it, but that set him off balance in his push-and-shove battle with Homura. Then the other deity's whips came seemingly out of nowhere, wrapping around Goku's ankle and jerking him to the floor. Goku's head slammed into the ground; the tiles cracked under him, and it took Sanzo a moment to realize it was because of the diadem encircling his head, not just his skull.

Then, as Homura abandoned his sword to end the fight with one blow to the face, Sanzo realized, _Even if I _had_ stepped in, the brat never would have forgiven me._

Silence hung over the makeshift battle arena. The only sound was harsh breathing, and that, everyone seemed curious to learn, came from Homura.

The ebon-haired god finally straightened himself, glancing over in Sanzo's direction. "Strange," the winded god said slowly, his words selected with the utmost care, "that despite having potentially six new allies, none of them came to his aid."

Startled, Sanzo looked over his shoulder. He had thought he'd heard the double doors opening earlier, but had been too preoccupied with the fight and his frustrating thoughts to give the sound much attention. Now he noticed his companions, both looking battered, Hakkai bleeding profusely on top of his other injuries. Gojyo didn't look much better off, and seemed to have sustained some head injuries. At least, that was what his frequently unfocused gaze told Sanzo.

Beside _them_ was Kougaiji's team. Somehow, the priest wasn't surprised. The demon prince hardly gave him a second glance; he seemed to have eyes for Homura only, and a smoldering challenge was raging in them, even from the distance Sanzo stood at. Clearly, he had some unfinished business to attend to. If it was anything akin to Sanzo's, then the man could make a well-educated guess as to what it pertained to. Flanking either side of the rogue-appearing prince were two demons Sanzo remembered, though not as well as either Kougaiji or his annoying sister. One he vaguely recalled was Gojyo's brother, though now in blood only, and the other was the apothecary who seemed somewhat enamored with her lord.

Almost immediately he noticed that the very sister he had just been thinking about was absent. This was new and unusual. And, if Sanzo cared about their affairs, he would have wondered if something unpleasant had occurred to cause her absence.

All this he had taken in within mere seconds. Sanzo turned back to the god, his voice unconcerned as he said, "He's your brat."

"He was," the god agreed. Strangely, a tired note sounded through his admission. Then it was gone as he spoke again. "Either way, I truly am surprised."

"Seems like you've been getting a lot of those recently," Sanzo said acidly.

"Indeed." An almost grim smile flitted across the man's expression. "But I did not expect you, Konzen, to simply watch."

The way he said it made the priest wonder if he knew about Goku's frequent visits. Was he jealous? Somehow that didn't quite fit. Realizing where his train of thought was leading to, Sanzo squashed it down in disgust.

"I could care less what happens to that idiot."

Homura cocked his head to the side. He still hadn't left his position, standing at Goku's feet. "Is that so?"

Sanzo scowled, then relented. "I just need him for a stupid mission I'm on. I didn't even want to bring him."

Strangely, the god's lips twitched. He seemed to find the statement funny, but not quite in a laughable way. Odd. "That truly is a pity." He pivoted, just a bare few degrees, but enough to make Sanzo's shoulders tense. "Perhaps _you_ should have rescued him, first."

First?

"I only did so because I, in all my imperfections, was impatient," the god continued. He made no advancements, but Sanzo knew he was fast. He could run at the monk whenever he wanted, probably slash him open within a second and Sanzo would barely feel the pain before his gruesome death. "Of course, no imperfection ever goes unpunished. Perhaps, in retrieving him, keeping him was my punishment."

What the _hell_ was he babbling about? Sanzo's eyes narrowed; at this point, Homura's talk had become unwanted introspection into his psyche. On top of that, _confusing_. Sanzo had no idea what he meant about punishment-- aside from the fact that Goku was annoying, and that could be victimization for anyone.

"You act as though we care." This time, the comment had not come from Sanzo, but from Kougaiji. The blonde's eyes flickered sideways as the demon stepped into view, his upper lip lifted in the beginnings of a snarl. "Gods are all the same. You have to make elaborate speeches just to avoid fighting, don't you?"

Sanzo had never thought he would want to applaud the demon prince. He thankfully refrained, as it was inappropriate and a stupid reaction besides, even in sarcasm.

Homura's expression changed again. He regarded Kougaiji coolly, then turned and knelt. He lifted Goku's limp body with a clatter of chains, slinging te boy over his shoulder. "You two will get what you want when I am through. Zenon. Shien." His voice sharpened at that point. "Do make sure they remain patient."

_Shit,_ thought Sanzo. Even if it was just two gods, it was still two of _their_ insane powers against mere demons and a human. No matter how you stacked the odds, it didn't look good on his side.

Strangely, in the critical situation, his thoughts wandered back in time toward the inane things. In his mind's eye he could see what had happened just before Goku had been thrown against the wall. He could also _feel_ it; the heat of battle commencing, the friction in the air as weapons were thrown as most arguing couples would toss words.

The crack of whips flying through the air. The rattle as a machine gun spat out bullets at an impossible rate. The walls being damaged as a sole body was thrown against them, sustaining cracks that would probably become irreparable at the rate they were forming. Bullets also tearing at the walls.

Peculiarity, as he, the only bystander, suddenly saw eye-to-eye with the war god himself. An unreadable glint in the bi-colored eyes, and then the contact was broken. The fight drawing closer and closer, and he with nowhere to run even if he had the desire to.

Then, a brief flash of fear, as a blow was aimed for him.

Erased in a moment, as calm overtook him. The intrusive, unfamiliar thought of, _I won't die, because he's here to prevent that._

Utter silence, as Goku barely blocked the deadly hit.

_"What are you, crazy? Stop bein' careless!"_

That was all the brunette had had time to say before he was sucked back into the battle. And again, the brief eye contact with blue and gold, only this time it had sent an icy chill down his back. Now, reflecting on it, Sanzo wondered if what he had seen had been hatred, jealousy, or a twisted form of both.

"Sure thing, Boss," Zenon said in response to Homura's order. A confident, toothy smirk spread across his face. His silent partner said nothing as he made his way closer; his apparent form of consent.

Behind the priest, Gojyo and Hakkai moved closer. "So what's the plan?" he heard Gojyo ask with a tinge of bitter resignation.

Normally, Sanzo would simply say that they would fight. Under any other circumstances, they would have battled these gods to the death, determined to go out all at once, if they had to die at all.

This time, with cold rigidity that mildly startled him, and greatly took his companions aback, Sanzo said, "You fight. I'm going after the monkey."


	32. Chapter ThirtyTwo

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: mentioned Homura/Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, violence

Notes: Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

And yes, we're actually very close to the end. About 5-6 chapters after this one...

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Two_

Pentagram.

Goku wasn't sure why the word was the first thing he thought upon returning to consciousness. Nor did he know why a strong sense of dread pressed down on his lungs when he thought it. The sensation was frightening, even if it wasn't a physical force. He gasped, trying desperately to feed his body what he distantly knew it wasn't starving for.

Behind his eyelids, there was darkness. That could be terrifying enough, because empty voids tended to make him remember the cave. But this time, he somehow knew that opening his eyes would throw him into a world much worse than that.

Even without seeing, he could feel his wrists and ankles were all but immobile. With a cold flash he realized this was one similarity to the strange dream he had had weeks ago. A slight twitch of his fingers told him enough; he wasn't chained down, didn't even have the shackles he had been bound with in the nightmare. That was one difference.

_Help..._

Panic seared through him. The situation was akin to déjà vu, only not. This wasn't his dream, but it felt so much like it. Only the overwhelming sense of fear, danger, and betrayal matched exactly. Fear because of his immobility, danger because of the immense power pulsating around him, and betrayal because...

Homura.

_Sanzo!_

He opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. Goku winced as bright light stabbed into his eyes, sending a violent jolt of a headache through his skull. A soft groan escaped his throat; which, he discovered, felt strangely parched. He tried swallowing, but had difficulty.

A shadow fell over him. Goku winced again; he could tell by smell alone who was hovering above him. Still, he had to see to be sure-- or so he told himself. He forced his eyes open, and this time the light was obscured by a man's body.

Bi-colored eyes stared down, strangely piercing yet blank. Intense, but lacking a strong emotion. The sight made Goku both ache and want to scream.

"Ho... mura..."

Whether or not his raspy voice reached the man's ears, he couldn't tell. When the god spoke, he didn't directly reply to the call. "Pity," was all he said. His voice was dark and soft, almost like velvet.

Goku sucked in a deep breath. To his relief, he managed to do so without choking. At least he didn't seem dehydrated. He wondered how long he had been unconscious. It didn't feel like more than a few seconds, but a quick, painful glance around told him it had to have been longer. They were in the room with the pentagram; the one Shien had refused to let him enter once before. The one he hadn't been "ready" for.

Apparently, now he was ready. Goku didn't want to be.

"Homura," he tried again. This time his voice came out stronger; the man _had_ to have heard.

Shaking his head, Homura crouched down beside him. He said nothing, staring at Goku without seeming to see him, his sharp eyes focusing and blurring at random. As though he were constantly being pulled into deep thought.

Goku began to shake. His teeth rattled for a moment, and he clenched his jaw to solve the problem. When he trusted himself to speak, he finally did. "Homura... don't."

Not a "don't" to not create his world; not a plea for the man to let him go; it was nothing of the sort. Goku hurt, his whole body hurt with a depth that went to his marrow, sucking at his soul like a leech. He wanted to hate Homura so badly for tricking him, for using loopholes to drag the boy this far, for deceiving him with words and touches and caresses...

And yet, despite the bitter melancholy trying to settle into his blood, Goku couldn't help but think, _Don't__ hurt us any further._

But then, it was probably too late for them. They, as a team, as a pair, as _one_, had died the moment Goku refused to help. Perhaps they had never even existed-- and that thought hurt worst of all.

Homura said nothing to indicate he understood. Instead, he reached out in an almost tender fashion. His fingers traced over the coronet encircling the brunette's head. Despite the fact his limiter was nothing but a piece of metal, Goku could have sworn he had felt a ghost of his lover's touch then.

No, his former lover. He clenched his teeth to keep from screaming out. Pure, tearing, emotional agony.

"It is a pity," Homura murmured, flattening his palm against the boy's diadem. "And extremely unfortunate that you woke in time for this."

Goku seethed. "Homu--"

Without waiting for him to finish even his name, the god gave a violent shove. The force was enough to take the brunette's head off, but since that didn't appear to be Homura's intent, all it did was pull his coronet free. The circular object rolled; Goku could tell by the dim noise he heard over the shrieking in his ears. Screams heightened, and he suddenly knew he was the one doing it, because his throat felt sore and raw.

His diadem clattered to the floor. His head threatened to split open. Then the last thing Goku could sense before his vision blackened was a demonic rage pouring forth from a crevice long-hidden and long-forgotten.

------

He must have been climbing a tower, because here the stairs wound around a cylinder wall that seemed to rise endlessly. Sanzo was glad he didn't have the patience for inanity, otherwise he would have tried counting the stairs on his way up, and long ago he would have _lost_ count and grown even more irritated than he already was. A small blessing, perhaps, but it was something.

It wasn't long before he realized the echo of footsteps he heard wasn't singular. There were another pair of feet ascending the steps. The person behind him didn't falter, as Hakkai still did on occasion; nor did he walk with a certain arrogance Sanzo was slowly, surely, and regrettably getting used to. There was assuredness, but with a different kind of conceit.

He briefly considered greeting the visitor, and then promptly told himself to forget about it. Fortunately, his tag-along guest spoke first.

"When I'm finished with him, you'll be next."

Sanzo scoffed. He wished he had brought his cigarettes, but told himself that would have to wait until later. Right now, he needed to be completely focused on retrieving his scriptures-- and the brat.

He said, "That should be my line."

"Well, it's not." The prince's voice sounded terse; unusually so. Sanzo supposed it had something to do with their missing party member; what exactly, he didn't know, and didn't want to know. From the corner of his eye, the priest caught a glimpse of red against the drab backdrop. This wasn't like Gojyo's crimson hair-- this was _red_, with an almost orange tint.

Sanzo's attention returned to what was in front of him. Still nothing but stone and candles in their little niches.

"Your sutra really belongs to my master," he stated.

Kougaiji answered the comment bluntly. "I don't care. I have my own reasons for needing it _and_ yours."

Sanzo would have replied, but a sudden shriek ripped through the air. Startled, both men looked up, though there was nothing above them but ceiling. Without having to say anything, they quickened their pace. They were close. Perhaps just a few more flights...

Another scream sounded. This time, though it surprisingly sounded very different from the possessor's normal tone, Sanzo knew it was Homura.

------

Harsh breathing filled his ears, echoing in his mind even louder than the agonized shrieks spilling forth from the creature at his feet. His vision was fuzzy at the edges, blurring his peripheral vision, but Homura found himself too fixated on the writhing energy above his head to care. He noticed, couldn't ignore the uncomfortable tightness in his lungs, but the sight before him was far more important. This was what he had been working so hard for.

The sheer amount of energy surging through the air, caressing every vein, every nerve... it filled him with a heady sense of power. Power, he knew, he would have to be careful to control. The pentagram was helping to the job, at least; it was centering Son Goku's energy, helping to channel it into the necessary area. With the powers of the sutra, the magic of the pentagram, and the vastly growing strength pouring from the demonic body all working in synch, the new world would be formed.

Or rather, the gateway to the new world. That was what Homura so desperately needed, and soon. He knew time was running out. He could feel it in the way his ribs ached with every breath he took.

With his gaze fixated on the gathering energy, he almost missed the slight movement from his lower peripheral vision. Homura turned his attention away, back down to the floor. What he saw stole the breath he was still trying to suck in.

Golden eyes stared at the ceiling, half-lidded as though drowsy. The screams had long sense ceased spilling forth from the creature's mouth; when, Homura couldn't guess. He hadn't been paying attention. But now Seiten Taisei was suddenly calm, almost tranquilized, as his clawed hands reached dreamily for the bright light above him. Reaching out to the new world?

No.

Homura tilted his head back, and then he could see what he hadn't noticed before. From a different point of view, when he attempted to see it from the demon's perspective, the light looked more like a smaller, colder, but still fiercely present sun.

_I could never be his sun._

Strange. When he thought back on it, he'd had several intentions when he had gone to free Son Goku from the cave. There was the obvious, in which he needed the boy to create the new world. Only Seiten Taisei could generate enough power to do so-- especially since he was the spirit of the earth; thus, only his essense could create this new world. And that was why once the new world was complete, the old world would disappear. Homura didn't know how, but nor did he care. It wasn't of his concern.

However, his apathy toward the old world didn't extend to every last being. Two people had been important enough for him to want to bring with him-- and now, three. Or perhaps, formerly three. He didn't know what to do with the boy now. He didn't want to think about it.

Despite that, his mind couldn't help but wander back to the day he first freed Goku from his seemingly eternal confinement. Yes, he had gone to retrieve the power because of his impatience... but also, he had to admit he had been wondering if it had been possible to be the most important being in Son Goku's life. Perhaps, he had thought, if he freed him, if he took him from the life of aching loneliness, then the boy would have looked to him in awe and wonder. In a way he had; but it hadn't been the total devotion and fierce, deep-set love those golden eyes had always turned on Konzen Douji. Even as years passed, that particular love had never seeped into his lover's eyes.

Then again, Homura himself had never been able to set aside Rinrei's memory long enough to fully give Goku what he had craved so much. If he had been able to... if he had done so... maybe...

Homura blinked. The atmosphere had changed, becoming lighter and heavier at the same time. A sinking feeling pressed down on his gut, and for a few vicious seconds all he could see was a pair of glimmering golden eyes.

Any other time, the predatory creature before him would have been sneering. Smugness would have filled him to the core, emanating from him in sightless, palpitating waves. The room would have dimmed, seemed unimportant in comparison to the amazing being standing so leisurely in the middle of the room.

Seiten Taisei held himself as casually as usual. But there was a twitch in his elegantly clawed fingers that betrayed his fury. His catlike eyes were narrowed, but not in animalistic superiority. His upper lip was curled slightly in the beginnings of an angry snarl, and then the sound spilled out. Homura realized faintly that his surroundings hadn't just dimmed. They had ceased to exist at all.

There was only this demon, and his righteous fury.

It was hardly the first time Homura had felt like prey. The heavens had made good use of his helplessness, taking advantage of his forbidden heritage to use him as their plaything. Bondage, torture, verbal abuse, emotional flagellation; nothing was beneath the gods he so despised and hated to share the same blood of. (Though, fairly, he tried not to fault his mother. Naturally, her acts of sin had been what had created his taboo existence, but she had never intentionally done anything to harm him.)

Still, when Seiten Taisei glared at him with unmatched hurt and anger, Homura realized he had never been more of a target than he was at that moment. He had played the victim in the heavens' hands before, but now, even with his strength and intellect and better judgment, he was even more helpless than he had ever been before.

The demon moved, but not with the confident laziness Homura had seen before. In the heavens, Seiten had been as arrogant as any small child with the bigger and better toys. Just weeks ago, when maiming Sumi, the creature had displayed similar haughtiness in his actions. Now, however, what the man saw in Seiten Taisei's movements was far from playful in any fashion.

While half mesmerized by the creature's movements, Homura still retained enough sense to bring up his arms in a defensive stance. But against Seiten, very little could be done in the way of defense. As a harsh reminder, the demon used his claws to rip the man's arms open even as he tackled him down.

The force of the impact sent them both tumbling to the floor. Homura cried out as his head struck the floor with a jolting force, sending stars sparkling across his vision. So dazed was he after the hit, he couldn't feel the pain that _should_ have been burning his arm. Strangely, the wetness of blood _was_ there.

Blinking to clear his vision, Homura dimly heard the creature atop him snarling. When he could focus again, the first thing he saw were brilliant golden eyes clouded with hatred.

Or perhaps it wasn't any form of animosity at all.

The demon hissed, his eyes narrowing to slits. Malevolence sparked in his stare, as though he were thinking of which way to disembowel Homura most painfully. Something which, the god realized, he was thankful for, because it gave him the precious few seconds he needed to retaliate. Even in the face of Death, he only had one thought in mind: _I must see the new world._

Grateful he wasn't feeling his torn arm, Homura slid his hands beneath the boy, barely feeling the bones of Seiten's ribcage before he gave a hard shove. Startled, the heretic toppled off-- or rather, flew, because as he soared in the air for a brief moment in time, the demon somehow managed to turn his lack of balance into something graceful, arching his back and flipping so he landed on one foot and his knee.

_A malicious form of breathing, flowing poetry,_ the man recalled. He had thought the same thing when Seiten Taisei had torn into Sumi.

Homura sat up, his lungs seeming to constrict with even that simple movement. His arm was beginning to throb dully; the reality of his injury wouldn't settle in just yet. Soon, though... soon it would, and by then he would either be dead or within the new world. And to get there, he would probably have to kill his lover.

The double doors across the room opened. The sound seemed loud enough, because it turned Seiten Taisei's gaze from his current prey toward his unsuspecting victims.

Two figures stood in the doorway, both expressing surprise at the familiar yet strange being before them. The blonde in particular seemed stunned, his face giving way to his thoughts more than he probably realized.

Then Konzen tore his eyes away from the heretical being, glaring at the injured man to the side. "What the hell did you _do_?"

A wry smirk tugged at Homura's lips. With more composure than he felt, he said, "I have opened the door."

More might have been said, but the child of the earth chose that moment to attack.

------

The glimpse Sanzo caught was brief, but to him he seemed to have all the time he needed to study and criticize this new being. He looked like Goku. He had the same unruly hair, though it was dozens of centimeters longer, spilling down his back. Even from the distance he was at, Sanzo could still make out the eyes. Glittering, piercing, overflowing with rage, pure molten _gold_.

This, he knew, was the creature the Sanbutsushin had ordered him to take west. Seiten Taisei Son Goku.

As though the creature sensed him thinking the name, he sprang. Sanzo stumbled to the right in attempt to avoid the oncoming tackle, but he wasn't the intended target in the first place. In a blur he could barely see, the boy launched past him and crashed straight into Kougaiji.

The demon prince had also attempted to dodge, but hadn't quite been fast enough. His body twisted in a way that made Sanzo think he had been hit in the shoulder, and then the two demons tumbled to the ground. An angry curse erupted from the fiery-haired one, and with a violet kick he sent Goku flying back.

Sanzo was stunned when, as though defying the laws of gravity, the boy arched, soaring for a couple impossible seconds, and then landed with feline grace on the tiled floor. The creature's gaze lifted, his teeth baring a feral smile. Wordlessly, he was promising death.

Their eyes met. For an instant, Sanzo thought he was going to be the next target, and he tensed in immediate defense. He was both surprised and not so to see the creature whirl away, ignoring his new prey for his first victim. Homura had gotten back on his feet; he seemed calm and in control, only the sight of his bloodied arm and pained expression staining the image of cool collection.

The priest dimly heard Kougaiji regaining his footing as well. However, his dignity was probably another story.

A low sound made the hairs on the back of Sanzo's neck rise. As it grew progressively louder, he realized the creature was snarling, his hackles rising like an angry beast's. Then, as fast as he had attacked the demon prince, Seiten Taisei Son Goku lunged for Homura.

The god's reaction was too fast for Sanzo to make out. Whatever took place in the next two seconds, the priest could only speculate. It ended with Homura somehow on the floor, gritting his teeth over a cry he couldn't fully contain as the demon's claws tore down his shoulder. Blood spurted from the wounds. Strangely, all Sanzo could think was that it was probably hot, like water from a fresh, steaming bath.

Even from that distance, he could make out the sadistic pleasure on the brat's face. He wanted to shoot it clear off. Not for Homura's sake; Sanzo couldn't care less. Simply because it annoyed him.

Sanzo blinked, and suddenly the demon-child was airborne again. His gaze flitted briefly back toward the war god, and then was caught by something else lying on the tiled floor. Something far more important.

The Seiten and Maten scriptures.

The blonde felt his heart still for the briefest of moments. He began to move forward, forgetting that there was a fight going on, that getting in the midst of it could prove to be deadly. Luckily, he remembered long enough to hesitate-- and that was probably what saved his life. Because Kougaiji had noticed seconds before he had, and was already a considerable distance closer.

And, as Seiten Taisei rolled onto his hands and knees, he was also right between the two already fighting.

A loud shriek of rage split the air. Despite the warning, there was still little the demon prince could have done to avoid -- or even defend himself against -- the attack. He hit the ground, his head smacking the floor with a sickening _crack_. Blood was spilling again, and Kougaiji was screaming in anger and agony.

Sanzo thought, _That__ could have been me._ He stayed where he was. From what one glance told him, Homura had decided to do the same thing.

Keeping his voice just low enough so as not to be too easily heard over the brawling, he said cynically, "I hope you're satisfied."

He could feel the god's smug gaze on him. The other man's tone was very matter-of-fact. "I knew you would come."

"Psychic, are we?"

"I prefer 'omniscient.' "

Sanzo opened his mouth to retort, and would have gone through with it, had a sudden surge of... _something_ suddenly pressed down on the room. The weight of it was heavy, almost crushing, and it vanished almost as quickly as it had come. On the floor, golden eyes peered up quickly; the boy had felt it as well.

But more importantly, Homura's expression had changed. Subtly, but noticeably, his demeanor had become more subdued. Sanzo had the feeling that if he had gone and said what he had been about to earlier, the god wouldn't have paid it any heed.

Something drastic had just happened. And most likely, it was not in Homura's favor.


	33. Chapter ThirtyThree

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: R

Pairings: slight Homura/Goku, mentioned Zenon/Mirei

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, strong language, violence, gore, morbidity, character death

Notes: Thank you for the reviews thus far. I apologize for the late update.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Three_

All was exactly as it should have been. Never mind that chaos currently ruled both the earth and the heavens; never mind that gods were panicking and a battle between live and death was being waged down below. Everything was finally coming together.

Besides, Kanzeon Bosatsu actually found the entire mess entertaining.

Three years ago, the war prince Homura had grown impatient to begin his plans for the new world. The heretic Son Goku had been set free from his bondage-- and while it was far from cooperative with her initial plans, the bodhisattva had intervened on his behalf when the gods had contemplated serious punishment. Or rather, she had remained on neutral ground but had pointed out facts that just happened to work in Homura's favor.

Yes, she had wanted Konzen's new incarnation to get to the child first. But one had to make sure there was room for improvising in one's scripts. At least Homura got points for being unpredictable... especially since he gave off the impression he was blatantly easy to read.

She snorted inappropriately. No wonder she (and her "assistant," of course) had been the only one to foresee this.

"Kanzeon Bosatsu," a man at her side hissed. She didn't have to look to picture his expression; struggling to remain impassive, yet pale and slightly twitchy at the prospect of her attitude getting them in trouble.

"Yes, yes, Jiroushin. Perhaps I should say something," she returned in a low, bored voice. A few pairs of eyes flickered their way, but for the most part the gods were too preoccupied arguing about what to do with the situation to pay attention to her.

From the strangled noise emitted, it seemed Jiroushin regretted opening his mouth. A smirk curved the bodhisattva's lips, and she waited for a brief pause for the opportunity to speak up.

It came sooner than she expected.

"There's more to it than treason," one man protested loudly. "What do you expect we do about his apprentice?"

"Make him the next war god," another said immediately.

There was a break for a murmur of agreement, and Kanzeon arched an eyebrow. "That certainly is optimistic thinking, isn't it?" she said, putting forth as much casuality as necessary. Which, in the other gods' eyes, was most likely too much.

Another silence followed; this time it was tense. "What's that supposed to mean?" one finally had the nerve to demand.

"Exactly what it sounds like," she replied, resting her jaw against her knuckles. "Think logically-- that brat's almost as powerful as Homura himself now. He's still young, and that power still has room to be fostered."

"But--"

"Oh, shut up," she cut in, mildly irritated. Honestly, couldn't she ever finish explaining herself before some idiot had to speak his inane thoughts? "Let me give you this to think about, then: if you appoint the brat to his position, and use him overthrow Homura as you so desire, do you _really_ think you can get the boy to murder his own lover?"

And oh, she did _so_ love it when simple words could render an entire group speechless. It was particularly amusing when the party thought highly of themselves, and believed they were so eloquent. Not to mention, their stunned expressions told most of them had not known of that interesting little tidbit.

The victory brought a smug smile to Kanzeon's face, and she continued speaking. "Our job as gods is to observe. I would suggest we do just that."

"Kanzeon Bosatsu," began one man, his bearded face drawn tightly in annoyance. "You really cannot expect us to sit by and _let_ this abomination--"

"Who's _letting_ him do anything?" she interrupted. "The entourage traveling west has also been caught up in Homura's plans. Their patience with gods is finite."

"And yet--"

"And yet," she went on, as though he hadn't spoken. "You insist on trying to fix something out of our hands." She lifted her head, flashing the god a lazy smile. He couldn't hold the stare, and coughed in attempt to break the discomfort he likely felt. Her second victory, though not quite as satisfying as the first.

"Sit back and enjoy the show," Kanzeon suggested. "I doubt we'll see anything this interesting for quite some time, anyway."

------

An onslaught of bullets accompanied the rough rattling of the gun. Cursing inwardly, Gojyo threw himself to the floor. Sharp clangs sounded throughout the vast room as the bullets ricocheted off the hard floors, crackling as they embedded into the pillars and walls. A sudden sharp _bad_ intuition caused Gojyo to quickly push himself to his knees, bringing his arm up just enough to twirl the _shakujyo_ into a metallic blur.

The bullets bounced off his weapon, and the rattling stopped. Breathing hard more from frayed nerves than exhaustion, the half-breed didn't miss the surprised approval on his opponent's face.

But that didn't mean he had any right to let his guard down. Now, more than ever, these gods were dangerous.

"Shit," he muttered beneath his breath, climbing back to his feet. "The things we go through because of _Master Sanzo's_ damn whims."

A foreign yet familiar hand gripped his arm, aiding him until he was standing up straight. Without looking, he knew who had touched him-- and he wasn't sure if he should have been grateful or annoyed.

He was saved from having to respond thanks to a feminine voice. "If I may propose an idea..."

"Please do, Yaone-san," a slightly breathless Hakkai said from the side. Gojyo didn't have to look to know why he was winded; he had heard enough grunts to know his companion had been largely relying on his energy shields.

Even as he briefly considered asking Hakkai if he was all right, Yaone strode to the front. Gojyo only caught a flicker of fear and determination-- and that was smart. She knew very well who -- and what -- they were up against.

He didn't even notice the manner in which she reached beneath her coat until a slim hand withdrew. Just as he opened his mouth to ask what in the hell she thought she was doing, her arm swung out almost too fast for him to comprehend, and a silent explosion followed.

Tear gas.

Normally Shien would have been driven to attack instantly. As it was, the vapor did little to disrupt his senses. Fighting sightlessly had always been hos forte-- and he had done so for good reason. If ever his vision was to be impaired, he wanted to know he had equally sharp -- perhaps even sharper -- senses to fall back on.

Still, it was a clever trick, and it was a strategy to be admired. If one could not fight one's opponent head on, it was best to use a veil, to hide and strategize... or to impair vital tools.

He heard Zenon hiss angrily, and knew he had been affected. No matter. Shien was trained to handle this.

Their opponents had scattered, but he still knew where to attack. In a similar movement the demon girl had lashed her arm, so did he-- with the company of a single whip. The light hit the ground with a sharp _crack_ that was too loud for it to merely indicate sound. He had missed, but from the sudden intake of breath he had caught, he knew it had been a narrow miss. With his other arm, he swung out in a wide arc.

This time, the crack was akin to solidified energy hitting flesh. The resulting cry said that had been exactly what he had accomplished.

Shien had no reason to worry.

No reason until the crescent blade whistled past him, missing him barely an inch. No reason until a short, agonized cry of pain reached his ears-- the sensitive scream of someone he could only consider a friend. No reason to lose his temper, until warm liquid splattered his face and wrist, and the coppery stench of blood was right under his nose.

"Son of a _bitch_!"

Zenon.

Shien at last opened his eyes.

Zenon's gun was on the floor, and what was left of his hand looked about ready to join it.

------

Agony, like nothing he had ever felt before, surpassing even the pain he had suffered when stumbling upon the gruesome scene of his slaughtered family. He had believed nothing could equal it, but this... it was physical, and it couldn't be denied.

And it fucking _hurt_.

Zenon no longer had a weapon, and his hand was dangling off his wrist by bare bits of muscle and flesh. Blood spewed from the wound, and his limb had been rendered useless...

Just as he had been useless to Mirei.

The memory was enough to shake him out of the crimson haze of Death's grip. Fury tore through him. He was here for a reason; he was going to see the new world no matter what. Like _hell_ he would let some damned half-breed's luck keep him from that.

With a roar, he ripped the offending hand from his arm. And suddenly, as he whirled to face the woman behind him, he realized that although one limb was useless, the other was not.

Worry and terror flickered in the woman's eyes. Despicable eyes. Demon eyes. Determined eyes.

Though his wound could possibly kill him if not tended to, Zenon had no time to worry about it. A demon was here, a sickening member of a species which thought of nobody but themselves. And she was still breathing.

This had to be rectified.

It was impossible to ignore the pain completely, but Zenon did manage to shove it to the side as he dove for his fallen weapon. His remaining hand fumbled clumsily at first, but he was able to hold it upright. He was not left-handed, was not even ambidextrous, but he could steady the machine gun. The weight was terrible on one arm, but manageable.

At least, it was manageable until he pulled the trigger. The weapon jumped horrible, jarring him. He was not used to holding it in this manner.

And he missed his intended target. But it was not without results.

He had aimed for the demon woman, but had hit her companion instead. Red exploded against the crisp whiteness of the large companion's chest. He staggered, stunned, before collapsing. Several bullets had hit the mark, and if Zenon was counting correctly, it was at least five, though it was hard to count when his handless arm was throbbing again...

"Dokugakuji!"

The gas was dissipating to the point he could see again. But then it came back, seeping in from the corners of his vision, and it was brilliantly red, terribly crimson, and made him think giddily of precious life. His wife. His son.

A crack followed by the demon woman's cry followed. Shien, he vaguely remembered. Shien was still there; was still fighting.

But strangely, though she looked nothing like her, sounded nothing like her, and wasn't anything at all like his late wife, Zenon somehow heard _her_ scream and watched _her_ stumble to the convulsing, bullet-riddled body of the larger demon. And even though he knew better, he still imagined, still thought, still saw...

_Mirei._

He never felt the pain of sharp, cruel crescent points digging into his back, through his spine and into his ribs. There was nothing but a void, and then a world of both blinding light and everlasting darkness.

------

Though his chest ached, and his shoulder stung, Homura was having a hard time focusing on any of his present problems. In attempt to keep his attention on something, he had tried to watch the fight between Seiten Taisei and Kougaiji, but that hadn't worked for long. At best, the battle was one-sided anyway.

His mind was wandering; a dangerous thing for a man in his position. Even the briefest sidetrack could cost him his life at this point, especially with Konzen in the room. He had yet to find a way to kill the god, but Homura was well aware he was more resourceful in this life than he had been in the heavens. Where Konzen would never have been able to take him on, Genjo Sanzo could.

But that still didn't matter to him.

Blankly, Homura stared at the entryway to the new world. Already someone had died; he didn't know what to make of the new situation. Death amongst worthy adversaries was always a pity, but to happen to one he truly considered a good friend and companion...

_Rinrei, _he thought, his lungs constricting further. He inhaled slowly, deeply, but couldn't shake the dizzy feeling coming down upon him. _I am coming, Rinrei._

He tried desperately to picture his face, but was instead rocked by another memory. The expression he saw in his mind was heartbreaking, though at the time he had only felt mild sympathy, even almost uncharacteristic patronizing. Against his better judgement, Homura closed his eyes.

_At the time, he hadn't realized the full extent of their situation. Here they were, sidled with a child barely breaking into his teenage years, and he had entrusted him to Zenon's care. Perhaps not the wisest of decisions, but his search for Rinrei's descendents was important as well._

_That was why, upon finding the boy lost and confused in the crowded streets, Homura had barely blinked. He made no noise, standing still and cocking his head as he waited to see what the child would do._

_Golden eyes swiveled in his direction, wet with tears threatening to fall. They widened in surprise, and the boy froze as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Then, with a loud cry, he ran forward. Miraculously, he managed to avoid the mass of legs around him and tackle the back, wrapping his small arms around his midsection. Homura stumbled back a step, but did not fall._

_Looking down, he saw the boy's shoulders shake as he struggled not to cry. Already he was trying to be brave, even in the face of a frightening prospect. Smirking, Homura smoothed the boy's hair back the best he could, assuring him that he was in good hands now. Only the promise of a good, hot meal soon calmed the child down._

_Not once did Goku truly cry._

And perhaps that had been his downfall. Perhaps he had been too kind to the boy, giving him more leeway than he should have. Perhaps...

Perhaps he should have simply left him in the cave.

Without a word, Homura started for the entrance to the new world. His time was running out, and he had little left to lose.

_My apologies, Shien,_ he thought, with a hint of ruefulness. _But I am going ahead of you._

_------_

Entertaining, certainly, yet undeniably tragic. Wisely, Kanzeon kept this to herself; she doubted anyone else present would have understood. Jiroushin, perhaps, but the other stuffy gods were too eager to see those who had revolted face a fitting punishment.

"You see," she said, her voice quiet yet flippant at the same time. Inwardly, she was disgusted and sick, but played it down with skill borne from centuries of patience and practice. "The situation is resolving without our help. This is why the gods observe." She received scattered, reluctant murmurs of agreement-- and it did nothing to settle the bile in her stomach.

There was no such situation as one in which everybody won. It was unfortunate and tragic that Homura and his comrades were faced with the rough end of the deal-- and even more tragic, because the eventual outcome was inevitable. She watched the events unfold, observed the trials and battles, was all but omnipotent, and yet she lived by a code of conduct which forbade her from interfering directly. One could breach that code only so many times before drawing attention to oneself.

She pitied Homura as she pitied Nataku. But, as with Nataku, all she could do was watch.

As she turned her attention to the second and far more fascinating battle, she thought in what was almost an uncharacteristic prayer, _Kid, at the very least, give him the kind of ending he wants._


	34. Chapter ThirtyFour

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: R

Pairings: slight Homura/Goku, hinted Gojyo/Hakkai and Sanzo/Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, strong language, violence, some gore, character death

Notes: My most sincere apologies for missing the deadline last week. There was no excuse for that; I simply forgot. I hope this chapter at least makes up for that absence.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Four_

Even with the floor made of hard rock, vivid scuff marks and scratches adorned the room. Pillars cracked with web-like lines from where bodies had made crushing impact. It was a miracle the room was even intact.

More of a miracle was the fact nobody in the room had died. Yet. Sanzo was never one to overlook that sort of grim possibility. Pessimistic, maybe, but he also knew it was a realistic expectation—especially with that creature tearing into the legendary demon prince.

Nor was he the type to miss the presence of others. He shot a sharp glance at Homura, but only saw the back of his cape. Brilliant flames stitched in striking contrast to the violet material beneath it. Less striking yet somehow more noticeable was the unnatural crimson stain in the god's torn shoulder. It seemed the bleeding had slowed, but the stain still grew bit by bit.

Damned gods. They didn't even need a tourniquet.

It wasn't until the man took a step forward that Sanzo realized he should have been paying attention to what was beyond Homura's body. What had been shapeless and writhing had somehow formed a door. And Sanzo hadn't been distracted for more than a few minutes.

"Not the type to clean up your own mess, are you?" he asked scathingly. Unthinkingly.

Homura stopped, but didn't look back. Even if he had, Sanzo had the feeling his expression would have been perfectly neutral; even smug. He could sense the would-be look in the god's tones—though, oddly enough, it sounded forced.

"As much as I would love to watch, I have more important matters to attend to," Homura said matter-of-factly; as though the fight behind him had suddenly been deemed unimportant. "I am sure you are more than capable of handling the situation."

So that was it. He planned to leave the crazed demon in Sanzo's hands; forcing over responsibility in a manner Sanzo knew he would have a difficult time ignoring. He glared.

As though sensing it, Homura turned and smirked. "In fact, I am _certain_ of your abilities. Please do not disappoint me, Konzen."

Sanzo hated him. He would have told him so, had he not been forced to change his plans a split second later.

Even as he heard the sickening crack, Sanzo didn't manage to catch what had happened until the object flew past him and crashed into one of the supporting pillars. The building trembled, but remained intact. Even the pillar bore only numerous severe cracks; yet nothing terrible enough to make it collapse beneath the weight.

Then the priest realized the object lying in the rubble wasn't really an object at all, but a body. Kougaiji remained unmoving, a thin trickle of blood trailing down the side of a dark cheek. His brows were furrowed, but not with conscious effort.

_Shit_, thought Sanzo.

He didn't dare a glance toward Homura, not even from the corner of his eye. But the man was well within his peripheral vision, and even from that unreliable view, Sanzo could have sworn the god looked pained.

Yet he must have been wrong, because Homura merely sounded smug as he said, "Do take care of him for me."

"Bastard," Sanzo muttered beneath his breath. In the silence that followed, he managed to pick up a sound he hadn't noticed before—or that, perhaps, he had been _unable_ to pick up.

Growling.

The demon before him was snarling, low rumbles that seemed to make every fiber in the air shake. Even from his distance, Sanzo could sense the sheer fury in the creature's tones; inhuman, yet humanly recognizable. Anger, hurt, betrayal—and the bloodlust for revenge.

Sanzo chanced a quick glance to his right. He didn't look for more than an instant; just long enough to discern that Homura was no longer there.

Yet it was that instant that cost him. Even before he had the chance to register movement, the demon tackled him head-on.

------

Gojyo couldn't believe how many times he had to remind himself that they were up against a god. One would have thought the concept would have made its way through his skull by then. Instead, he found himself reflexively tensing in anger as he saw Shien use his weapons to effortlessly throw Yaone a good few yards back. The woman hit the ground with a cry, skidding across the cracked linoleum. Had the pillar not been as close as it was, maybe she would have had time to brace herself, or even move out of the way.

Instead, she crashed into it. There was a sickening sound; nothing that came from her mouth. She was limp and unresponsive.

Damn it. Enemy or not, Gojyo had a problem with men to handled women roughly. Especially women who were on his side, regardless of the temporary circumstances. His eyes narrowed in disgust.

This fight completely sucked. There was no other way to put it. His clothes were torn, bruises adorned his body, and – what he believed to be almost worst of all – the burn marks left from the rapid cracking of Shien's whips hurt like hell.

The absolute worst was that his brother (no, Dokugakuji) was lying in a manner that made Gojyo wonder if he was already a corpse. Then, to his horror, the large body twitched, convulsed, and the demon was heaving blood into the ground. The dull gleam of dozens of bullets riddling his body was enough to make Gojyo see a whole new kind of red.

Ignoring the throbbing in his wounds, Gojyo ground out through his teeth, "I don't suppose anyone's ever told you your hospitality is worth shit."

To his surprise, Shien cracked his eyes open. At least, that was what it seemed like—only the barest sliver of sharp green flared out from between thin lashes. The man gave him a quietly disdainful look; as though Gojyo didn't deserve to lecture _him_ on hospitality.

Coolly, Shien replied, "No. But then, our guests have never taken it upon themselves to act so foolishly before us."

"Forgive me," Hakkai said, startling Gojyo. His surprise came not from his voice, but from the shortness in his breath. He was clearly exerting himself too much. Before Gojyo could get a word in edgewise, Hakkai continued in a grave tone, "But we're not exactly used to gods behaving so foolishly around us, either."

Like a teacher subtly rebuking his student. The analogy almost made Gojyo snort; he settled for a thin smile instead. He had to give Hakkai credit for keeping his head on straight in such a crazy and desperate situation.

Shien was no longer paying undivided attention to Gojyo. He seemed more concerned in scrutinizing the blind man; the one torn and tattered and bloody from previous battle, but still standing on his own two feet, with his ear cocked in the direction Shien's voice came from. It didn't matter that Hakkai wasn't exactly steady; he swayed just a tad too obviously, and Gojyo had to resist the urge to wrap an arm under his shoulders to hold him up.

Hakkai would have hated that, anyway. At the moment, he appeared fully aware that the upcoming battle was about to rest fully on him. And, though Gojyo hated to admit it, that was the way it should be.

He was admittedly hoping for it so he could check on Dokugakuji anyway.

"You have more courage than I previously credited you for," Shien finally acknowledged.

Hakkai's chuckle was short and strained. "I'd rather not delude myself. Courage is far from what's keeping me here."

"Loyalty, then," Shien surmised. But before Hakkai could deny it, he corrected himself. "Or perhaps not. We are less alike than I believed at first."

Hakkai gave a curt nod. "Thank you."

Gojyo tried not to bolt. He had the nasty feeling that sudden movement would bring his own demise upon him before either he or Hakkai could do a thing about it. Yet he couldn't help his eyes from darting to the side, noting that a certain demon's breath seemed far too shallow to be healthy.

"My only regret," Shien said mildly, his wrists tensing in a move Gojyo was beginning to recognize. "Is that we have not had the chance to properly converse."

Hakkai remained quiet for a few moments, as though considering the words. Then he replied in a strangely soft voice. "I normally don't have room for regrets. But I suppose I can understand that one."

A dry smile tugged the corners of Shien's lips. Then, just as Gojyo took a step back, he began his assault with nothing more than a flick of the wrist.

------

Pain erupted in Sanzo's right eye. He choked on a curse, and then on his tongue as he nearly bit down. Somehow – he wasn't entirely sure how – he had ended up flat on his back, his chest heaving as he struggled to suck air into his lungs.

The fucking brat had more in him than he'd ever wanted to acknowledge.

He couldn't remain stationary. Sanzo had already tried it, but it seemed the demon only lost interest when his prey was either dead or unconscious. And, the priest noted bitterly, there was no one else to distract his opponent.

He hated it when he had to deal with someone else's burdens. Sanzo hated it even more when that burden was in the midst of a bloodthirsty rage and had no sense other than to kill. Whatever had gone in between Homura and Goku, it had to have run deep in the smaller of the two. How else could he hope to explain the blind fury with which the enraged demon lashed out with?

Sanzo used his arm to propel himself, shoving away from the ground to make himself less of a target. That didn't seem to matter, because though the demon's fist met the floor with a bone-crunching _crack_, he still had use of his feet. One boot met heavily with Sanzo's spine. The force knocked the wind out of him, causing him to roll with painful thumps across the ground.

He must have blacked out, because Sanzo couldn't remember landing. All he knew was that when he opened his eyes again; slit pupils were mere centimeters from his face. Hot breath dampened his face. Sanzo couldn't help but recoil in disgust.

As though angered by his repulsion, the demon snarled and jerkily rose to all fours. Like an animal ready to pounce; one clawed hand was even poised in the air, threatening to slash out at him and add on to the numerous injuries he had already forced the man to endure.

Quite honestly, Sanzo was getting sick of this game.

Even as he wracked his brain for ideas, the demon was on the move again. He lunged, which Sanzo narrowly managed to avoid with the bare scrape of claws on his face. They burned, but were nothing compared to the gashes on the back of his right hand. _Those_ hurt like a bitch. And he intended to make Goku pay for each throb of pain that coursed up his arm.

He couldn't duck and dodge forever. But at the moment, he had no other choice, and each moment that ticked by was a moment he drew nearer to death. If he didn't have a plan—

Sanzo had it.

The simplicity of it struck him dumb for a split second too long. Sharp claws dug into his shoulder as the heel of the demon's hand slammed into him. The force knocked him back, causing his head to jerk and crack against the linoleum. A sharp gasp ripped from his throat. The demon was atop him, straddling him in the most unappealing way Sanzo could imagine (possibly because his imminent death was to follow) and snarling down at him. Wild eyes glared, accusing him of crimes he had never committed.

Sanzo had lost his gun long ago. Hence the torn flesh in his left hand.

But Sanzo was also ambidextrous. He used that to his advantage and slammed the other hand hard against the demon's forehead, satisfied to hear teeth clack and to see the naked shock on Goku's face.

------

He had never been able to escape the stench of blood. Thick, metallic, and coppery; it made his stomach churn just thinking about it. It seemed he was always bathed in it, or that he drenched someone nearby in their own magnetic fluids.

What really made him feel sick, however, had nothing to do with the smell. It was the fact he had rudely probed deep into his adversary's psyche, intruding without permission, just to find a weak spot and apply pressure. The attempt had been a success—but that didn't make him feel any less guilty.

Wet wheezing sounded before him. Weary, old, and resigned; as though the god before him had already taken a few precious moments to accept his fate.

"An admirable battle," Shien managed to say without a stammer.

Hakkai clenched his fists. What could he say to that? He wanted to deny it, but knew Shien would somehow twist their battle to make it seem as though Hakkai had fought with honor and integrity. And those were two words he didn't deserve to hear, much less have applied to himself. So he remained silent.

Shien seemed to know anyway. "You disagree?" Finally, a slight tremor, as Death began to grip the man in a hold so tight, it forced the composure of this god to become rattled.

"Yes," Hakkai said.

"Good," Shien rasped. A dull thud sounded; when the man spoke again, his voice sounded lower and more distant. "I truly regret not speaking with you properly, Tenpou."

Purge the regret, was what Hakkai wanted to say. Instead, he stated evenly, "My name is Cho Hakkai."

A respectful murmur of acknowledgement followed. Then another thud, slick with the sound of liquid. For once, Hakkai was relieved to be sightless—the sight of an adversary he hadn't truly hated lying in a puddle of his own blood might have been enough to unravel him.

It was then he realized that he had completely forgotten about Gojyo. When he paused to feel the man's aura out, he was both surprised and not to find him near the weakening life force of one of their temporary allies.

As he stumbled their way, he wondered how the outcome of this battle would change their alliance.

------

Why the chant of the lotus flower came to him, Sanzo had no idea. He wasn't even sure if it was the right one. How could he be? He'd never dealt with a creature like this before—completely and totally out of his sane state of mind (if Goku's mentality could be considered 'sane;' Sanzo personally believed the word shouldn't have ever existed).

But if it was the right one, then the demon was reacting as though it were. He let out short, panicked shrieks, raking his sharp nails down Sanzo's arm. Then, when the man refused to relinquish his hold – and how he even kept it with the demon's strength was a wonder he would ponder over later – Goku attempted to claw at the man's face.

His voice clipped, Sanzo finished the mantra in a shout.

The Maten scripture, previously lying lifeless on the tiled floor, erupted with life as though Sanzo's words had woken it from the dead. Coils of sutras lashed out, gripping the demon's arms and legs. Sanzo wasn't sure exactly how it worked, but he did know Goku wasn't exactly lightweight. He tried nudging the scriptures, imagining a _push_...

To his relief, the coils tightened and yanked the demon off him. Goku thrashed wildly, smoke rising beneath the paper as though its powers seared through him; burning. Howls filled the air, reverberating and making Sanzo half-weary of bringing the whole structure down upon them. While he wanted to kill the boy, he wasn't about to end his own life in the process.

He forced himself to stand on his feet, unsteadily making his way to the furious demon. As Goku's head lashed back and force, Sanzo zeroed in on the problem—his bare forehead.

Goku's howls grew less furious, becoming emptier yet louder in volume. His shrieks died, replaced by strange choking sounds that were strangely... human.

Sanzo only cared that he wasn't thrashing as much. Before Goku could change his mind, he silently urged the scriptures to lower the brat to eye level. With his aching left hand, he pressed his palm to Goku's forehead, pressing his thumb and middle finger into the boy's temples as he wearily muttered the chant a second time. He had to envision the golden coronet—and again, he wasn't entirely sure it would work. He had no book to go by.

Bronze – not gold – shimmered around the boy's forehead, where the diadem had been last Sanzo had seen him sane. He closed his eyes, screwing them shut to focus on his rapid mumbling.

Before he could finish the chant, he realized his hand was wet with something other than his own blood. Startled, he tensed, but dared not to leave the chant incomplete. He gritted the last words through his teeth, trusting himself to open his eyes only when the coronet was whole in his mind.

He withdrew his hand to find Goku's jaw slack, his eyes wide to the point they must have hurt. His pupils were contracted, the irises seeming inhumanly large in contrast.

What attracted Sanzo's attention the most, however, were the smudged tearstains tracking down the boy's face. It seemed bizarre; out of place.

And Sanzo didn't know why he did what he chose to do next. It was not empathy or sympathy; far from them, really. Agonizing seconds passed before he made his decision. By then, he had managed to convince himself of a reason he knew was half-assed.

He still had to bring Goku west. He had orders. And he knew the excuse was bullshit.

Nevertheless, he felt his hold over the scriptures loosen. The coils gripping the boy went lax, before promptly dropping him to the floor. Sanzo followed suit, if with a bit more grace, as he sank to his knees and mustered the last of his strength to roll the Maten sutra back up.

Part of him had the urge to pull Goku into his lap and let the boy rest his head against something more comfortable. Instead, Sanzo stared blankly at his prone form, blissfully wiping his mind clean of any unnecessary thought until all that was left was the silent demand that Goku wake up as soon as possible. Because Sanzo wanted to hit him harder than he had ever struck Gojyo in his entire life.

------

"You're sure?"

Gojyo let his breath escape in an explosive hiss. Honestly, sometimes he could admit that he cared about Hakkai, but the nagging could get on his nerves like nothing else. His voice impatient, he said, "She said she'd take care of him, didn't she?"

"She did," Hakkai agreed. His voice was light, as though it wasn't all he could do to help his friend stand even while leaning against Gojyo's shoulder. "And Yaone-san seems competent in what she does."

Gojyo almost made a sarcastic remark, but bit his tongue. It wasn't as though Hakkai lacked a point; the manner in which Yaone had immediately gone about applying first aid had been remarkable. Even though had she looked about ready to collapse, and her face had been strained and pinched with worry, her primary concern had been Dokugakuji.

Even so, Gojyo had a sinking feeling in his gut. He tried to shrug it off, but the best he could do was numb it by occupying his mind with other thoughts. Such as, how were he and Hakkai supposed to make it up a damnable flight of stairs in time to be of any use?

Of course, in their condition, both would probably prove to be more of a burden than a help. Sanzo had damn well better not have expected them to save his ass.

Hakkai hesitated as they drew nearer to the steps. "Gojyo..."

Understanding his tone, he said heavily, "Yeah. Long-ass trek ahead of us."

From the corner of his eye, he perceived a humorless smile. "Shall we attempt it anyway?"

Gojyo thought about what must be going on above their heads. He recalled how completely dangerous Homura had always been; how, with that brat of a kid at his side, their team had seemed invincible.

And yet half of them had been cut down. One fourth didn't even seem certain of his loyalty anymore, from what Gojyo had discerned.

His voice dull with that of a man on a mission he wanted to be rid of, Gojyo said, "Aw, hell. Might as well."


	35. Chapter ThirtyFive

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG

Pairings: mentioned Homura/Goku, lightly implied Sanzo+Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, violence

Notes: Thanks for all the reviews.

Constructive criticism and feedback are appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Five_

It was the second time Goku had woken up to find the curling stench of blood permeating from his own body. He sucked in a breath too quickly. A choking fit turned into a series of dry heaves as he forced himself onto his back.

His body hurt. That came as no surprise, though he couldn't understand why. Goku felt disjointed; out of place. Something was wrong, but exactly what was beyond his grasp at the moment.

Then he realized how warm it was.

When he inhaled this time, it was slowly and through his nose. He quickly regretted that, as his senses were overwhelmed with the sickening smell again. Groaning, he opened his eyes.

The sun stared down at him, his expression cold and impassive. Furrowing his eyebrows, Goku tried to recall if he had done anything in particular to anger the man. His voice thick, as though he had just woken from a deep slumber, he mumbled, "Sanzo...?"

The man's eyes scrutinized him, searing through to the bone. Then Sanzo stated, "I didn't think you were into calling people by their proper names."

At first Goku didn't understand. Then his eyes widened, and he sat up so quickly it made his head spin.

He was back in the forest, with wire cutting deeply into his flesh, his mind whirling as he struggled to find a way out of the trap he had stumbled into. Sumi stared at him with her white eyes, without pupils or irises or any color to indicate she could see him at all, even as she criticized his every move. Then darkness, but filled with the sensations of rage and the sounds of her screams.

Only now he couldn't hear her voice. He just heard strange words, almost like a prayer. And the voice was far from female.

"Gods," he breathed, guilt swamping him as he took in Sanzo's tattered and blood-stained robes. "Did I...?" Trailing off, his words dangling unspoken in the air. He reached out hesitantly, and when he didn't receive even a glare, he dared to touch the man's wounded shoulder.

As though woken from a stupor, Sanzo snapped to attention. He hissed, jerking away from the boy's touch as his eyes hardened. Harshly, he said, "Yes, you did that. Are you satisfied now?"

Stricken by his words, Goku could only shake his head mutely. His hands balled into fists in his lap—the hands streaked with the blood covering Sanzo's body. He chanced a glance upward, wincing as he saw the barest of tremors unsettling the priest's body. His casual attitude, as though he was far from injured, was clearly an act he was barely holding together.

And, strangely enough, Goku had enough sense not to mention it. Rather, he clamped his lips together and lowered his head.

Then it occurred to him. "Sanzo?"

"What?"

The man's voice was curt, but Goku tried not to take it personally. "I thought you were mad at me. For... you know."

Stealing the scriptures. He could feel Sanzo's eyes burning at him, but the man didn't remark on them. "I'm going to kill you when this stupid ordeal is over."

"Then why'd you stay?"

A thousand reasons could have been given, but they both very well knew only one would be the honest answer. Goku didn't expect to be given that answer; partially because he himself wasn't entirely sure what it was, and partially because he doubted even Sanzo fully understood. He could sense the man silently groping for an appropriate answer. But he seemed to come back with only an empty hand, for he said nothing.

At last, Sanzo spoke in a strangely quiet tone. "Homura's inside." The statement made Goku jerk. Wildly trying to meet the man's eyes, but failing as Sanzo stared stubbornly at the wall, he could only stare helplessly. "The new world," the priest added unnecessarily.

Goku turned his head to the doorway. He couldn't recall seeing it before, yet the sight was not unfamiliar, either. In the depths of his mind, where that monster's memories resided, was likely where the first instance of glimpsing the new passage lay.

And Homura was just beyond the doors.

It was difficult to describe how he felt in that moment. Surges of anger were rapidly washed away by waves of frustrated pity; and even that was canceled out as the sensation of utter betrayal pressed down on him. He was hurt, desperately worried, wanting to seek out solace, and wanting to give comfort all at once. Even stronger was the tidal wave of pure _emotion_ – love, he knew – that gave him the strength he needed to get to his feet.

"I have to get him," he whispered. His mind was made up all at once, even as it was torn in two directions. After this, he wanted to leave—he wanted to go with Sanzo, wherever he went, because the man was his sun and he needed that warmth to help him grow. But he couldn't go anywhere without Homura, because he needed him to care for him in ways no one else could. And, even more selfishly, because he wanted to care for someone as deeply as he already did. He couldn't do that without Homura.

He turned to look at Sanzo, pleading without words. There was no reason to ask, given the man had never agreed to take Goku with him on his journey. Especially since Goku had never truly been on his side anyway, when sides were forced to be taken. At the same time, it felt so natural to ask for permission first—as though Sanzo had been the one to rescue him from the cave, and not Homura.

The man regarded him with something akin to contempt. _Why ask me?_ his expression demanded.

"Sanzo?" Goku asked tentatively.

Grunting, the man forced himself to stand as well. The effort seemed to take more out of him than it should have, and Goku briefly worried Sanzo had lost too much blood, or that his other form had given the priest a more grievous injury than he could tell by just looking at him. However, once on his feet, Sanzo seemed to breathe more normally. He turned away from Goku and limped across the floor. A barely audible hiss sounded as he bent to retrieve an item—his gun.

Then, flatly, he said, "These bastards used the powers of the scriptures to create the new world. Which means that the damn world your _partner_—" Goku was taken aback to hear Sanzo say the word as though it was a curse. "—made is going to overlap ours."

Goku noticed the next object Sanzo picked up was one of the scriptures. The blonde turned to him, scowling at the confusion on his face. What he said, however, made Goku feel faint with gratitude.

"And if I've learned anything about you, it's that you can't finish a job on your own."

------

If a melody could form into a visual effect, then it would have taken on the image of what Homura saw before him. Tantalizing energy pulsated in the air, taking on a faint shade of blue as it seemed to concentrate into a sole area.

The scene was something that had taken Homura by surprise; yet once giving it some thought, he had realized it shouldn't have been too startling. Everyone in the heavens knew of the legendary heretic Son Goku's birthplace. Mount Kaka, located at the edge of a fray of mountains at the end of a long valley flourishing with white and yellow wildflowers. Gentle slopes made up the hills from the mountain shaped like a pillar, gliding down into the meadow and easing into a place of flat, smooth land.

Homura had continuously called the new world his, but in reality it was Son Goku's. The scenery came from the boy's deepest memories, ones he couldn't even imagine; his memories of birth and kidnapping and finding a home and a family, before losing it all in a bloody whirlwind. Tilting his head back, the god took in the pleasant sight of a pale blue sky, scattered with tufts of pure white clouds. Their shapes were oddly reminiscent of cotton candy. Despite himself, Homura couldn't help but smile at the thought.

Then the smile vanished.

He took a step into the meadow, hoisting his sword on his shoulder so as not to ruin the flowers any more than he would by just walking. While this may have been derived from Goku's memories, they took on a form of one of Homura's. The scents of blossoms were tantalizing, setting seed to a bittersweet ache in his chest that made it all the more difficult to breathe.

Even so, he managed to whisper, "Look here, Rinrei. This is the world of which we dreamed. Here no one will scorn our affections. Here we will be free to express our love in actual words, without having to rely on puzzles and riddles so that the gods will not discover our secret."

It did not seem strange to him to talk to the ghost of a woman he hadn't spoken to in centuries. He had the stinging feeling that her spirit was unlikely to gravitate to a world she had never set foot in. Nevertheless, he continued—for he knew he would never have the chance to speak to her again.

"The gods cannot – will not – look down on us here. I am free to love you openly, and you are free to return those affections if you should so wish. Here..." He trailed off briefly, struck with the memory of the toy he had found in her home. His voice subdued, he finished, "Here we may start a family, begin our own life, and live as we wish. At last, Rinrei, we are free."

Even before he sensed the new presences, he turned. Instinct, perhaps—or maybe he had felt them, but had refused to acknowledge them until he was finished. He had not wanted to be interrupted.

Goku stood mere yards from him. Behind him was Konzen's new incarnation, but for the moment, Homura held no interest in him. His eyes were drawn to the brunette's posture, taking in the arms hanging limply at his sides; yet his fists were clenched in contrast. White outlined his tense lips, and Homura could tell from his jaw that he was biting the tip of his tongue.

"Welcome," he said calmly, extending his free hand in a semi-circle to gesture their surroundings. "This, Son Goku, is the new world we have created."

The boy inhaled sharply through his teeth. His voice, when he spoke, was as bitter as green blackberries, long before they were ready to ripen. "I liked the old one better."

It was a surprising struggle to keep his tone measured, but Homura managed it. "Did you?"

Catching the past tense, Goku corrected himself angrily. "I _do_."

"That is a pity," said Homura softly. "Before you met Konzen, you were thrilled to help me create this, even knowing what I had in mind."

"You never told me I couldn't ever go back to the _real_ world," Goku accused.

Homura had nothing to say to that. The boy was right.

Instead, he shifted his stance, spreading his legs to get a firmer grip on the ground. The inevitable was arriving. "In that case, I would suggest we fight for it." Gold eyes widened a bare fraction, but the change of expression didn't slip by the god. "Yes," he said in response to the unspoken question. "Whoever wins shall decide which world will stay—and which shall be destroyed."

Implied was the concept that the winner also decided who died, if anyone. Homura saw the gears turning in Goku's head. He didn't bother telling him no matter what the outcome, he was going to die.

Half-breeds don't live forever.

Goku stared at him, an expression of mingled disbelief and frustration highlighting his features. After a prolonged silence, he held his hand out to the side. Without a word, his staff materialized beneath his palm. He curled his fingers around it.

"Deal."

Homura stripped free of his cloak and threw it to the ground.

------

He was scared.

Goku defended himself to the best of his ability, but could not find it within himself to go on the offensive. Homura wasn't holding back—not as much as he usually did, in any case, because Goku could feel the dramatic difference between this fight and their usual practice sessions. This time, there was intent to kill.

Yet all Goku could muster up was the determination to stay alive. He had no hopes of wearing Homura down—the man was a _god_, for crying out loud, and Goku's mentor to boot. It was all he could do to follow Homura's movements and intercept a deadly strike in time.

For the first time he could remember, Goku didn't want to fight. The almost erotic thrill of battle that used to fill him – when facing a new opponent, when going one-on-three with Sanzo's group or even when sparring with one of his three teachers – wasn't there. In its place was a void; an absence of something crucial. What he really wanted to do was talk to Homura. He wanted answers.

Perhaps he could still get them.

He barely caught the movement of Homura's arms in time. Using _Nyoibou_ to block the man's sword almost had no effect; he found the broad blade a mere inch from his face. Goku paled. His tongue moved uselessly in his mouth, before he could get his throat to work.

"Why... are you doing this?" he grunted out. His arms strained as the attack turned into a battle of strength; Homura pressing down on him, Goku trying to maneuver and allow himself enough room to lock his arms and properly defend himself. "You're acting... _weird_."

Homura said nothing, and that only made him angrier. Gritting his teeth, Goku dug deep within himself, clasping onto power he had been previously afraid to use. This, he knew, was his only defense now.

He shoved hard, managing to inch the blade away from his face. "I don't understand—" Goku slid his foot over the grass, the movement feeling slick. Footing was hard to find without any dirt. "I don't understand," he tried again, gasping with the effort to fend off and speak at the same time. "I don't understand... why you're trying to—" He broke off with a yelp as Homura abruptly changed tactics, swinging the blade back and in a crescent as though to take his ankles out from beneath him. The boy leapt back, hissing as the tip of the sword grazed his shin.

He lost his temper then. Momentarily forgetting the battle, Goku yelled, "I don't understand why you're _doing_ this! What the hell's wrong with you? Homura!"

The man heaved a sigh, sliding back into his usual posture; lax, poised, and non-offensive. For the first time since the battle had begun, he looked Goku straight in the eye.

"You claim not to understand. All I have to tell you is, 'That is how it should be.' Son Goku," he added, subtly mocking him.

Goku felt his hackles rise. Clenching his teeth, he shifted into an offensive pose, gripping both ends of the staff. It took only a thought for _Nyoibou_ to split into three even sections, each connected by three small, surprisingly strong chains. In return, Homura took a step back, raising his sword until the blade was even with the boy's nose.

The tense pause was broken by a click. Goku saw Homura's head turn sharply, even as he located where the sound had come from.

Sanzo stood a good distance from the two, eyes narrowed at something past both of them. Arm straight and only lightly bent at the elbow, his Smith & Wesson was cocked and aimed.

"I don't have time for this," was all he said, his voice curt. And then he fired.

Forgetting the man's safety, Goku whirled to see where the bullet flew. He caught a streak of lead, then another blur that was less perceptible. A loud _clang_ sounded – where had he heard that particular noise before? – and the second blur became visible.

Homura.

Sanzo had shot at the mountain, Goku noted somewhat distantly. The one that seemed to be gathering writhing energy that was almost alive. And Homura, for reasons unknown to Goku, had blocked it; almost as though that mountain – or the energy – had a great amount of significance.

Clearly unharmed from the priest's attack, Homura spoke. "How unfair," he said, his voice smooth. Then he launched himself at Sanzo.

Blind panic moved him more than anything. A simple word crossed his mind – _No_ – and Goku was moving faster than he could remember. He had never been this agile before. He shouldn't have had a hope of intercepting his mentor's attack, and yet...

Yet he found himself in front of Homura, his staff somehow keeping the man in place despite _Nyoibou_ being sectioned into threes. The squeal of blade against chains made the back of Goku's teeth grind almost as loudly. Homura's expression was unreadable.

Furious, Goku let go of one end of the staff, swinging out with the other. The force and set of the chains knocked Homura's weapon to the side, though not out of his hand. Recovering quickly, Homura swung his blade toward the ground, barely skimming over it before rounding to Goku's head. The boy let out a scream, lashing back at him with his makeshift nun chucks.

Homura was forced to retreat a couple steps. And behind him, Sanzo was breathing and alive—as well off as he could be, despite the bleeding from previous wounds. Goku tried not to think about them, even as he smelled the blood.

He took a deep breath, and then exploded. "You bastard! You never play dirty tricks like that." When Homura said nothing in defense, Goku's voice heightened to match his anger. "Why the hell aren't you fighting for real? You never take me seriously, damn it!"

As though to punctuate his shout, Homura abruptly drove his sword into the ground. The weapon tilted slightly, but otherwise remained upright, gleaming back at Goku. Shielding his eyes from the harsh light, Goku blinked as he saw the god reach up and touch one of his shackles. He unclasped his chains and let the heavy weights fall with a deafening _thunk_. All Goku realized was that the ground beneath where the shackles lay was now cracked where it hadn't been before.

Quietly, Homura said, "In that case, Son Goku, I shall grant you what you most desire."


	36. Chapter ThirtySix

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: R

Pairings: Homura/Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, violence, character death

Notes: Massive angst alert. One more chapter to go.

Much thanks to everyone who's reviewed thus far--and especially Ditch Gospel. Glad you've caught up!

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Six_

He felt before hearing the sharp intake of breath. Hakkai's ribs suddenly became sharp and defined, even through the torn layers of clothing. Alarmed, Gojyo glanced down at him. The moment his companion spoke, he realized he was looking in the wrong direction.

"Incredible," Hakkai whispered. His voice was thin and ragged from their previous battles—and the injuries he had sustained. Gojyo wanted nothing more than to ream him for acting so recklessly. Only two things stopped him; the fact his friend was in no condition to deserve it, and knowing he would have done the same thing if the idea had occurred to him first.

Then, understanding Hakkai expected him to see what he found so amazing, Gojyo turned his gaze. And exhaled explosively.

"Damn."

He knew what he saw most likely was only a hint of what Hakkai felt. Something swarmed above a mountain in the distance, tinged blue with electric white lines that seemed to silently crackle. Energy. Pure, raw life was flowing into the rock, as though the dull pinnacle was a point of focus.

And Sanzo, looking more battered than he, even nearly as much as Hakkai, was standing stonily near it.

"What the hell's going on?"

The priest didn't even glance at them. His attention seemed focused elsewhere; soon Gojyo found where. Hakkai seemed to sense it, as Gojyo could sense his companion's suppressed curiosity.

The boy from before was fighting the man he was allied with. Or, from the looks of things, that he used to be allied with.

Abruptly, in answer to his question, Sanzo said, "I don't know." The admittance was short and brusque, as though he hated to admit his lack of understanding. More than likely, that was the case. "But it's his fight, now."

Gojyo wonderingly stared at the sight before him. The three of them, observing as though they were outsiders, while two former adversaries fought for blood. "No shit?" he said, voice soft. Only Hakkai voiced what he believed they were all thinking.

"It almost feels as though things should be this way... doesn't it?"

------

He was burning. Not physically, and not on the outside, but inside, where his stomach and heart and lungs were. All were aflame with a fire that made him feel ill. His movements were slower than they should have been—especially now that he had removed the chains. He felt sluggish.

Yet Son Goku still had a difficult time keeping up with him. Homura was no longer fighting with his sword; he had ceased to find any good use for it. But Goku continued to clutch his staff. It was all he had to adequately block most of Homura's attacks.

Yet he continued to burn. Each movement only sparked a new flame in his lungs. Each flame threatened to spread and increase, growing only hotter and hotter until it was angrily feeding off him, off his pain, like a white-hot, angry sun of retribution.

Perhaps this _was_ retribution; his payment for all he had done. What better way to hurt him than with a concept turned physical by one he found admirable? Goku could not live without his Sun. He claimed living without Homura would be a venture he was unwilling to stand, as though it would be of the utmost torture to him.

But Homura knew better. Son Goku's allegiance had always stood with Konzen. A slight change in circumstances – him rescuing the boy from the cave, when Konzen would have come eventually – had not changed matters at the core.

He knew the boy was confused. Goku had been torn between his Sun and his lover since the moment he had laid eyes on Konzen in all his brilliance. Though he felt resentment for that, Homura understood; after all, Konzen had been the one to truly give Son Goku a purpose. Homura had offered freedom and nothing more; with time came a relationship he regretted when the guilt often caught up with him. But Konzen had offered a world with brilliant warm light, the utmost freedom—with no strings attached.

Homura was not capable of that.

He didn't realize he was so distracted until the boy landed a hit. Stunned, Homura took a severe punch to the jaw. The force sent him tumbling to his back, where he lay for a few precious seconds. Dazed. Somewhat confused.

Yet enlightened in ways he never had been before.

_Yes,_ he thought, lifting a hand to touch the soreness beneath his cheekbone. The flesh was tender; would likely bruise if he lived through this. _Yes, that is how. That is why._

Perhaps, all this time, he had never truly known better.

He had no time to let the guilt get to him. With a wry smirk twisting his aching face, Homura pushed himself to sit up. Goku was watching him, his expression torn between anger and hurt. He was pulling his punches, Homura knew. The attack should have killed him, as distracted as he had been. And it would have... had Goku not been holding back. Despite his anger over Homura's holding back, patronizing him, the boy had continued to do the very same thing.

He had made many mistakes. But there was one small way to atone for some of them, to alleviate so much agony he had caused. Only one way to apologize.

"Very good," he said. He was slightly breathless, but able to speak mockingly, to act as though he were looking down upon the creature he so deeply admired. Part of him loathed his choice, performing in such a manner that degraded possibly the most glorious and powerful being he had ever had the privilege to lay eyes upon. But up until this point, he had been taking that for granted. There was no reason to stop now, not when there was no turning back.

Homura would have continued, even opened his mouth to do so, but sudden explosive agony gripped him. A gasp was ripped from him, tearing at the walls of his throat. He doubled over, his head tucked between his knees and fingers clawing at his chest. It was so much more severe than before, hurt so much...

But he couldn't let it end like that. He would not die such an undignified death.

"Homura?"

Goku's voice reached his ears over the deafening roar in his head. Tentative, worried, even scared... such emotion that came from simply caring. It made Homura feel sick. He had done nothing to deserve his name spoken in such a manner.

The pain subsided without completely fading. But Homura stayed as he was, keeping his breathing short and ragged. His eyes were on a pair of boots, barely visible through stands of dark hair. Almost, closer, just a single step more...

Goku took another step forward, before dropping to one knee. He still held his staff in hand, using it to prop himself against the ground. Dark brows stitched together. "Homura... you're—"

He didn't wait to see what Goku intended to say. Homura snapped his head up, forcing a feral smile on his face. The boy had time for his eyes to widen in disbelief, and then Homura brought his elbow up sharply. Goku's teeth clacked audibly as the blow to his jaw landed squarely. This time he was he who tumbled back.

Mercy, Homura knew, was not an option. And he intended to prove that.

------

Pain erupted in a dazzling array of sparks, from the bottom of his jaw up the back of his eyes. Despite how much it hurt, Goku was vaguely reminded of the one miracle he had seen in his prison, long before his release—a shower of falling stars, lighting up an otherwise dead night. The sight had mesmerized him. For some reason, until now, he hadn't thought of it.

Or perhaps there was a good reason: that the light of all those stars still had not – could not – compare to the brilliance of the sun. There was never any comparison to make.

_Does that mean Homura can't compare to the Sun?_

The thought was wild, coming out of nowhere. Goku knew this. And yet, dimly, fear swelled until it was enormous, hot, providing no room for him to escape. He couldn't breathe.

_No._

He fumbled for his staff before realizing it had fallen out of reach. Moving hurt now; as he sat up, Goku felt flashes of white-hot agony seize his muscles. Still, he gritted his teeth and managed to clench his fingers around the cool metal. A movement from the corner of his eye barely warned him in time.

_It's the Sun who can't compare to Homura._

All he could do was defend himself. That was a mistake from the start. He had allowed himself to fall into this position, had _let _Homura move on the offensive. Battle with hands, he realized now, was very similar to battle using words. If he didn't go on the offensive, provide good _reason_ to what he was doing rather than hide behind shields that weren't guaranteed to last, then Goku was going to lose. And at the rate the fight was going, he was going to die. Homura's intent was clear, and that sickened him more than anything else.

But no matter what Homura tried to do, even if he _wanted_ for Goku to die, he wasn't about to lie down and let him do it.

Goku liked living.

The look in his lover's eyes frightened him. Absolute lack of mercy was clear, though for some odd reason, there was not even a glint of sadism. Goku couldn't feel _convinced_ that Homura wanted to kill him—even when he took advantage of his hesitation and gripped his staff; his strong hands on either side of Goku's. The boy couldn't help but look down, briefly mesmerized – as he always was – by the stark contrast in their hands; pale to tan, small to large, but both very powerful and lined with similar muscles and sharp knuckles.

Then, with a sound that Goku recognized as censure, Homura drove his knee into the brunette's stomach.

------

Something was inexplicably wrong with this fight. Sanzo knew the feeling, and could place to what it "felt like," though he couldn't hope to explain just _how_ it felt wrong. It was merely similar to how killing Shuuei – Rikudo – so quickly and easily, without any hope of redemption, felt out of place. It was like when he, Gojyo, and Hakkai had fought three-on-one with Goku, when it seemed as though they should have been anything but enemies.

His uneasiness had little to do with Homura. Sanzo felt nothing for the man; no pity, no empathy, nothing but cold indifference.

But Goku felt something for Homura, and it was slowly becoming clear that the god had, at some point and in some way, returned those emotions. Perhaps that was why this fight seemed so off.

Yet that wasn't entirely it, either. Sanzo could only watch the two, criticizing each and every movement. In the end, he could only decide that it was Homura who was acting strange. He continued to beat Goku mercilessly, at one point actually driving the smaller youth into the ground with his punches. Goku fought valiantly to defend himself, even screaming in anger a few times—but it was still strange; still off.

Almost as though Homura wasn't merely fighting. This wasn't revenge; it wasn't hatred. It was something far more selfish than that; something that went in even deeper and seemed to cut this man to the bone.

As if, Sanzo slowly realized, Homura were goading Goku on purpose. As though he didn't think the boy was fighting back hard enough.

Even though, from what Sanzo could see, Goku was struggling against him as hard as he could—without doing any serious damage to the man. He was in defensive position, and one that would get him killed if he didn't start taking his opponent seriously.

Only one could come out alive.

It seemed so strange that just as he thought that, the fight ended—and swiftly. The two were moving fast, to the point Sanzo had trouble following them at times. Yet what he did see was gruesome.

For he _did_ see Goku switch his grip on his staff. He saw the frustration and anger drawing lines on the boy's face, making him look older than he was. He saw Goku clutch his weapon like a club, and swing it as one.

He also saw Homura failing to dodge; almost purposefully, for his eyes held a strange glimmer and his body went rigid. And Goku's eyes widened, as he tried to avert the attack only a moment too late. Rather than collide with his skull, the blunt end of Goku's staff drove into Homura's throat.

Sanzo had seen much worse in his life. Hell, far more dire fates had befallen those he had actually given a damn for. Yet at the sight of the crushed windpipe, blood spurting from the god's nose and mouth, and hearing the thin, ragged gasps, Sanzo couldn't help but close his eyes in attempt not to flinch. Silence reigned the air—and then shock washed over him in an explosion, sick and dismaying and utterly horrified.

Goku's weapon slipped from his suddenly slack fingers.

Sanzo forced his eyes open. The scene was unbearable, though he didn't want to admit it took all his strength to step closer to the two. Homura was already on his knees, clutching his throat as his face contorted with pain. He was suffocating to death, slowly... and Goku seemed to be of no use except to shake.

Ignoring the rapid, almost hyperventilating breath of the boy, Sanzo stepped closer to Homura. It seemed so strange; almost morbid to observe the strange expression on the man's face. At first he didn't seem to notice Sanzo. He could only stare at Goku, his features drawn in such a way that there was no mistaking the fact he had something he wished to say—and that, in some way, that something was akin to an apology.

An intrusive, almost inaudible whisper sounded in the back of Sanzo's head. _I could not be what you wanted—and for that, I am sorry._

Sanzo hated being so susceptible to others' thoughts and emotions.

Despite the fact he hated to be touched, he didn't object in any way when Homura seemed to find the strength to grasp his wrist of the hand Sanzo had forgotten was still clutching his Smith & Wesson. Though blue already tinted his face, the god still had a tight grip. The muzzle of his gun pressed into his forehead, dead on his chakra. And though he had never been in a situation remotely like this, Sanzo still had the strangest prickling sense of déjà vu.

Sanzo didn't need a voice to tell him what to do. Remaining cold and impassive to the man at his feet, he tightened his finger on the trigger.

The resulting shot was deafening. The resounding silence was even worse.

Sanzo turned in time to be met with a furious gaze. Goku seemed speechless at first, his chest heaving in a manner that should have alarmed him. Yet it didn't; all Sanzo did was quietly slip his gun back under his robes without taking his eyes off the boy. He knew, with a strange calm, that this turn of events had caused Goku to come under his care—for he was going to carry out his orders, and take the boy westward.

He flinched when Goku screamed, even when the boy's fists flailed at him; his wounds still ached, and Goku's attacks only reopened some. The brunette couldn't seem to stop shaking, which only made each strike weaker. But his voice was stronger than ever.

"_You bastard!_ I hate you! What the hell did you do that for? I hate you! _I hate you!_"

Sanzo could only take so much. Scowling, he reached beneath Goku's wild movements, using his arm to roughly shove him back. The boy stumbled and tripped, tumbling to his back. Gasping, he still shouted hatred, his eyes shimmering with tears that, incredibly, still did not fall. And when they finally did, it was as though a dam had broken—torrents flowed, streaking his face and forcing his cries to dissolve into hysterical hiccups.

Dispassionately, he turned to Hakkai and Gojyo. "Let's go."

Just as coldly, he forced Goku to his feet. The boy didn't fight him; even worse, he allowed his body to sag, making Sanzo's job even more difficult. Once standing, Goku swayed dangerously, until Sanzo pushed him again. The boy stumbled, but only fell to his hands and knees. He continued to hiccup.

"_Get up_," said Sanzo fiercely. "Or I'll leave you with his damn corpse."

His words had the desired effect, and more. He had wanted Goku to stand on his own, which he did. What he had not expected, however, was for the boy to shut up. His hiccups were muffled; and though his eyes still looked wet, he didn't cry anymore.

"Now _move_."

Goku obliged. His legs continued to tremble, but he did not fall. He did not need support as Hakkai did; Sanzo noticed when they exited the new world. And for that, he was grateful—he was not about to drag the brat's carcass all the way out of the tower.

Kougaiji still lay unconscious. Though from the sound of distant footsteps in the corridor, that wouldn't last long. Sanzo trusted his companions enough to have confidence in the fact that if anyone had been left alive, he or she was not a god in any way.

"Sanzo?"

Without looking at Hakkai – nor Goku or Gojyo – he strode to the bloodied pentagram in the center of the room. He had his scripture back—and the other scripture, the Maten, was there for the taking. But before he could do so, Sanzo had a job to do, even if he _was_ reluctant to perform. Without a word, he ignored his burning wounds and set about unweaving the spell of the new world.


	37. Chapter ThirtySeven

**: Perfect World :**

_Gensomaden__ Saiyuki_

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: R

Pairings: mentioned Homura/Goku, hinted Sanzo/Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, mentioned shounen ai/yaoi

Notes: At last, it is **the end**. And yet, it is not. See the **open ending**? In the future, a **sequel** will come. I can't say when; I have yet to even start it. For the moment, it is tentatively titled _Harder to Breathe_—and it will focus namely on Kougaiji-tachi. Yes, this epic has spawned a sequel. And even a sequel to the sequel. We have a whole trilogy going on. (And yes, the Sanzo-ikkou will appear in HtB—and the third sequel will focus on them.)

And the early update, so soon after the last chapter? Is because I forgot that I'll be too busy this coming weekend to update. I guess this is to make up for the times I held chapters back for such long periods of time before.

Anyway! Thank you _so much_ to everyone who has stuck with this story unto the end. I can only hope the ride was enjoyable, and that if you got this far, you felt it was worthwhile.

Constructive criticism and feedback is still appreciated!

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Seven_

Sanzo couldn't remember ever thinking a cigarette tasted horrible. At worst, it could seem bland, but for one to actually leave him with a sick feeling in his stomach was simply unheard of. And yet here he was, crushing his fifth unfinished in the ashtray.

_What a waste,_ he thought in disgust, glaring at the packet of Marlboros.

He also couldn't remember the last time he had felt so restless. Occasionally he had caught himself pacing, and each time had forced himself to sit down and enjoy a cigarette. That had never gone well. Each incident that occurred only made him more and more irritable—and now he could no longer rely on nicotine to calm his nerves.

Defiantly, he pulled a sixth cigarette from the half-empty pack. Even before he lit it, Sanzo had the dismaying feeling that it, too, would bitterly disappoint him. He was right.

He was about to stub that one out as well, but a rapid knock on the door made him tense. He stood swiftly just as Gojyo stepped into the room, looking weary and frustrated. Not nearly as frustrated as Sanzo felt, however, and that only made the priest want to shoot him.

Rather than go for his gun, he took a nauseating drag before removing the cigarette. "I don't recall saying you could come in," he stated coldly.

"And I don't remember the last time I ever asked for permission," Gojyo muttered, sinking into a chair. Uninvited. Sanzo's glare deepened, but the half-breed hardly even blinked. "God_damn_, why didn't you ever tell me he was such a pain in the ass?"

Instead of answering, Sanzo said, "Get out."

Gojyo stretched his legs, swinging them up onto the table. Blatantly ignoring the priest, he said, "Won't move. Won't eat. Won't speak. Won't blink. All he does is sleep and look dead."

The smoke only served to make him feel even worse. Utterly disgusted with himself, Sanzo reluctantly put that cigarette out as well. He exhaled the smoke left harder than necessary.

"Just _stares_," Gojyo continued, making a face to portray his exasperation. "Looks deader than a corpse, but he's just starin' at us like he doesn't even see us."

Two days before, Hakkai had suggested Sanzo visit their temporary (and oh, how Sanzo fervently thought of it that way) traveling companion. Sanzo had flat-out refused; he still had gashes on his arm where Goku had clawed at him. To tear through skin with such blunt nails spoke of power Sanzo didn't want to contemplate—nor ever be presented with again.

Aside from that, he was still recovering from the injuries the brat's demonic form had inflicted. Many of them were going to scar. Not that Sanzo particularly cared, as he'd suffered scarring before – mentally, physically, and emotionally – but every time he changed his bandages, his blood simmered at the sight of the raw claw marks across his chest and shoulder.

When Sanzo still did nothing to acknowledge him, Gojyo favored him with a skeptical glare. "So?"

Sanzo bit. "So what?"

"So what the hell are we supposed to _do_ with him?"

It was a fair question; one Sanzo wasn't entirely sure he knew the answer to. Still, he couldn't keep the impatience out of his voice as he repeated what he had said several times before. "We drag his ass west, that's what we _do_ with him."

"Asshole."

Sanzo had to remind himself he did _not_ care what Gojyo chose to think of – or call – him before responding coldly. "I'm not pampering some brat who can't accept that death is death. Any idiot could have seen the bastard _wanted_ to die."

Gojyo snorted. Not sounding impressed, he said, "This kid's obviously not 'any idiot,' eh? More like '_extreme_ idiot.' That aside, you didn't just kill a god, _Master_ Sanzo."

He narrowed an eye, sizing Gojyo up briefly. "I know what I killed."

"Somehow I don't think you understand _who_ you killed."

It was becoming more and more difficult to keep his teeth unclenched. "I know what they were, and I know what he's dealing with," he said tightly. "And I'll remind you – and Hakkai, and that brat – that _I don't fucking care._"

For a split second, Sanzo thought Gojyo was ready to deck him. He tensed, anticipating the move, but the redhead surprised him by sitting still; though he did lower his feet to the floor. Gojyo reached into his pocket, pulling out his own brand of cigarettes before lighting one.

Fantastic, thought Sanzo. Now his room not only smelled like nicotine (which he still couldn't stand, for some reason) but it was the half-assed brand on top of that.

In truth, Sanzo knew he cared more than he was admitting to Gojyo. Not much, of course—he refused to let such a small thing to get in the way of his level-headed thinking. To him, Goku simply wasn't perceptive enough. He hadn't read the warnings signs as anyone else would have, and for that, Sanzo had no pity for him. At least, he wanted to feel no pity. Instead, he found himself feeling far more than he should have—even if it was just a small amount; nothing more than a drop.

Finally, Gojyo spoke. "Come to think of it, you might be better off that way." When Sanzo scowled, he shrugged. "I mean, no use getting attached along the way, right? _Muichimotsu_, or whatever you called it."

Sanzo was stung Gojyo had remembered that teaching before he had even thought of it. Turning his head, he stated, "That's right."

Gojyo remained quite for a few minutes. Then: "Even if it is better this way, you're still a goddamn asshole."

Sanzo made no comment.

Another knock disrupted the tense silence. Sanzo looked up sharply, his annoyance cutting further as Hakkai slipped inside. He kept one hand to the wall as he closed the door, cocking his ear toward the two. Before Sanzo could tell him to get out, Hakkai said, "I just thought you might want to know that our newfound friend is... well, perhaps not in the best of conditions."

Sanzo ignored the startled concern that flared. Extinguishing it, he spoke briefly. "I've gathered he's not exactly balanced right now."

A small, almost sad smile touched Hakkai's lips. "Yes, well... it would seem his lack of balance has had a rather..." He trailed off, before a wry tone snuck in. "Depending on one's point of view, it could be either a blessing or a tragedy."

"He up and died?" Gojyo asked, forcibly flippant.

Hakkai clearly humored him. "Not exactly."

Gods, how Sanzo hated it when the man was so cryptic. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Raising both eyebrows, even with his sightless eyes staring at the wall, still helped Hakkai manage a genuinely surprised expression. Then, thoughtfully, the man said, "I think you ought to look at him, Sanzo."

Sanzo looked at his bandaged arm, grimacing. As though reading his thoughts, Hakkai smiled. "I don't think he's in the mood to bite any longer."

Only because curiosity was compelling, and not because of any small amount of strange pity he felt for the brat, did Sanzo give in. First, however, he had to step outside and have another cigarette.

Strangely enough, he found the taste no longer made him nauseas.

------

It was with collected nerves and a cool head that Sanzo entered the boy's room. They (excluding the brat, who hadn't spoken) had mutually agreed one should room with Goku at all times. At first, Sanzo hadn't seen the need for it; Goku was fine on his own, and clearly hadn't wanted company. But it was quickly proven that he only lashed out at Sanzo. It was also proven he wouldn't say a word to anyone on top of that—except when Hakkai brought him dinner. Then they could extract a faint, mumbled, "Thank you."

Despite Gojyo's earlier description of him, Sanzo thought Goku looked more aware than he had when they had first stopped in this town over a week ago. The boy was sitting up straight, his legs out from under the covers and splayed in an almost obscene fashion. His eyes glittered with animalistic awareness, and narrowed at Sanzo when he entered.

But he didn't say anything, or attack on sight. That was an improvement.

Sanzo returned the boy's look with a look of his own. The boy didn't flinch as he once would have; his fists just clenched into tight balls, until the sheets in his grasp were pulled taut and his knuckles were white with the effort.

Sanzo kept his distance. "So something's wrong with you." Goku bit his lip harshly, but nodded slowly. The man scrutinized him. "I already knew about mentally."

That earned him a furious glare. Goku's mouth opened like he wanted to say something. A small sound came out, but then he seemed to think better of it and pressed his lips tightly together.

Mercilessly, Sanzo said, "And emotionally. I'm still telling you to get over it."

Goku's muscles were visible as they tensed. He glared as if to ask, _You__ think that's easy?_

"No," Sanzo replied to his silent question. "It's not. But if you're going to go with us, you're going to learn one thing from me, brat." Goku shook his head, as though in denial, but Sanzo ignored him. "_Muichimotsu_. To hold nothing. Listen," he added fiercely. The hands Goku were lifting to his ears hesitated, then dropped into his lap. "I'm only saying this once, and I'll be damned if I ever have to repeat it to you."

Goku's expression was sulky, but told he was listening. Sanzo didn't give any thought to the boy's unusual silence. Though he was quoting his master, quoting something he had repeated to himself for years, it was a lesson he had never – and would never have – forgotten.

"If you meet the Buddha, kill the Buddha. If you meet your father, kill your father. Free of everything and bound by nothing; live your life as it is."

The features of Goku's face were pinched; as though he were struggling to embrace and deny the teaching at the same time. Or perhaps he was merely struggling to comprehend it.

"Do you understand?" Sanzo demanded. Goku shook his head, but quickly changed his mind and nodded. Sanzo would have none of it. "Do you understand it, or don't you?"

Despairingly, Goku finally nodded.

Finally, it dawned on Sanzo. He cursed himself inwardly, but decided to test his theory before deciding it was a realization. Normally he would never demand such a thing, but now he stated, "Then tell me what it means."

That simple order did it. Goku shot to his feet, his eyes blazing with a fury that startled even Sanzo. He subconsciously took a step back, but that didn't help him avoid the pillow Goku threw at him. The object hit Sanzo in the chest, before falling to the floor. Seething, Sanzo stared at the offending pillow before slowly raising his eyes to Goku's. His were dry, but Goku's were wet. He was breathing heavily, on the verge of panting.

As though it were the simplest thing in the world, Sanzo said, "You can't talk."

Goku clenched his fists at his sides. He looked like he wanted to throw something, but when his mouth worked without uttering a sound other than a few pathetic squeaks, he turned and slammed his foot into the wall. Hard. The wood splintered.

Before the boy could realize the extent of his damage, Sanzo withdrew his fan from his sleeve. He had never used it on Goku, only on Gojyo every once in a while, yet it was so much more satisfying and somehow _right_ to smack the boy upside the head with it. Goku stumbled, jerking around to stare at Sanzo.

Sternly, as though speaking to a small child (and perhaps he was), Sanzo said, "Learn to behave, you brat, or I'll do worse than that."

Goku's jaw clenched. He couldn't speak, but his expression was clear. _It didn't hurt anyway._

"A bullet in the head will hurt a hell of a lot worse than that," Sanzo promised.

The threat did more than he had expected. Goku started, and then blanched. For a moment, Sanzo thought the boy was going to lash out as he had in the new world; but all Goku did was sink down onto his bed, cradling his head in his hands. The soft hissing that ensued told Sanzo enough; that the brat was fighting tears.

And Sanzo had never been one for comfort. He waited until the noises subsided, before speaking—though to his frustration, his voice came out a notch quieter, almost softer than usual. "Are you done?"

Still cradling his head, Goku slowly nodded.

"Then take a shower and get dressed." The brunette slowly lifted his head, his eyes blanker than Sanzo had seen them all day. Cursing the boy, and silently threatening to kill him if he reverted to his all but catatonic state, Sanzo finished. "When you're done feeling sorry for yourself, you can come downstairs for dinner. We're leaving tomorrow morning, and if you want to know a damn thing about what the hell we're doing, then you'd better get your ass out of bed."

------

When Sanzo had left, Goku hadn't budged. An hour later, however, the boy trudged into the restaurant, silently taking the only empty seat. Hakkai smiled and kindly asked how Goku was doing. For him, the boy managed a weak smile. Then he seemed to realize – or perhaps – remember Hakkai's condition, for his smile dropped long before it should have.

Sanzo chose to ignore it.

"Well," Hakkai finally said. "I believe I've been graciously—" At this he tilted his head toward Sanzo and Gojyo, cocking an eyebrow slightly. "—assigned the task of informing you of our current situation. Though actually," he added before Sanzo could even think of opening his mouth to protest. "I would rather I be the one to tell you."

Sanzo leaned back in his seat, searching for his cigarettes. He absently decided that no matter what happened in the future, he wasn't about to start sitting in the non-smoking sections of restaurants. Not for this brat.

"Before I begin, however," Hakkai said, folding his hands in a manner that instantly set off alarms in Sanzo's head. "I just want to be the one to tell you that... well, Goku." His voice became gentler suddenly. "You can refuse to come with us, if you'd like."

"He will not."

Hakkai didn't budge, but every indication otherwise said he'd heard Sanzo perfectly clearly. Though he continued to address Goku, Sanzo knew he was being spoken to as well. "We can't make you do anything, of course. This will be your choice, Goku."

Sanzo didn't protest again. But he had no intention of just letting the brat walk away. He had gone through this much trouble; he wasn't about to let all the crap he'd gone through be for nothing. Like _hell_.

The brunette made a small noise to show he'd heard. It was barely a squeak, but more than he had said since Sanzo had dragged him out of Homura's so-called perfect world.

Hakkai smiled. Sanzo couldn't understand how he could be relieved when he had just given their strongest potential adversary (of whom, Sanzo admitted only out of great reluctance, may be a necessity) a way out. If it had been Gojyo, he would have been shot at. But as it was Hakkai, Sanzo sipped his beer and said nothing while their blind companion began his explanation. His gaze was focused on Goku, taking in each flicker on the boy's face, trying to comprehend what thoughts ran behind those defensive yet strangely lifeless eyes.

It wasn't hard to figure out Goku's train of thought. It never had been. Sanzo knew when the boy was thinking, "I get it," or "That's insane!" The words were practically written on Goku's face. Yet he had the bizarre feeling that even if Goku's expression had been unreadable, he would have been just as easy to read. Understanding Goku felt instinctive; as though he had never needed to learn his patterns or movements or behavior. Sanzo just _knew_.

But admitting this would have been admitting he was somehow attached to the boy. He silenced those ponderings immediately.

Conversation paused only when the food arrived. Sanzo half-expected Goku to dive into his meal when it arrived, considering he had rarely eaten in the past few days. Instead, the boy gave his plate a sickened look. At Hakkai's urging, he took a bite, but from that point onward only picked at his food. After a few more successful attempts at getting him to eat – and thrice as many failed ones – Hakkai finally dropped the subject and continued his explanation. Goku paid rapt attention, absently pushing sauce and rice around with his chopsticks.

Half an hour later (taking so long only due to Gojyo's interjections, and Goku's predictable reactions to them) Hakkai finally settled back in his seat. His hands folded, ear cocked in Goku's direction, he said gently, "As I said before, whether or not you accompany us is up to you. You've been through quite a bit, from what I've gathered. However... your help and company would drastically improve our situation. I won't lie to you. We – all three of us – have our own preference as to which choice you make." He smiled. "With that said... will you join us?"

Sanzo didn't put down his chopsticks, but he didn't move to eat any more, either. He fixed his gaze on Goku, cool and emotionless, as he tried to gauge the boy's reaction. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Gojyo doing the same thing; though the redhead showed far more interest.

Golden eyes flickered amongst the three of them, becoming more and more guarded each time they settled on Sanzo. Without warning, Goku exploded from his seat in an agitated move. The chair clattered back; Hakkai started visibly.

"Hey," Gojyo started, getting to his feet. Sanzo followed his example without thinking.

But Goku didn't wait for either of them. He shot Sanzo a final glare, and then fled the room.

Silence settled over the remaining group; strangely cold, empty, and desolate. Sanzo clenched his jaw, wishing to say something scathing to Hakkai, but he wisely held his tongue. Instead, he slowly sank back into his seat, before shooting the aforementioned man a cold look. As though sensing it, Hakkai only scrunched his eyebrows in a dismayed expression. He shook his head.

Gojyo didn't sit. He said the one phrase that summed up all their reactions, varied as they were, perfectly.

"Well... shit."

Though he wasn't hungry at all anymore, Sanzo returned to mechanically eating. For all his taste buds were worth at the moment, his food may as well have been sand. And he wouldn't have noticed a damn thing.

------

Staying was pointless now. Yet Sanzo found himself reluctantly agreeing to wait one more night—this time due to the weather. After Goku's blatant refusal, Hakkai had agreed it would be best if they left. But, as if to spite Sanzo, a storm worked itself up rapidly by lunchtime. Even if they had gone out, the rain would have been too heavy to see through.

Given Goku's previous silence, he had at least expected a quiet – if not peaceful – night. Instead, he found himself woken repeatedly in the middle of the night by strange thumps and crashes. It didn't take long for him to pinpoint it in the room they had rented for the boy. Amazingly, pounding on the wall and uttering a few well-chosen threats halted the noise.

But then he couldn't get to sleep. Something continued eating at him—an emotion he couldn't quite place, but knew was going to irritate him more than almost anything else. Insomnia plagued him until the first remnants of light glittered through the window. All he was able to get after that was a twenty-minute nap before Hakkai's polite knock woke him again.

He _wanted_ to storm into Goku's room and put a bullet in his brain. Sanzo settled for a cold shower and hot coffee.

Annoyingly enough, the first words out of Gojyo's mouth were, "What the hell was all that noise last night?"

Sanzo grimaced, before speaking curtly. "A brat throwing a temper tantrum."

A sly look was shot his way. "Oh?" Gojyo asked innocently. "So was that the throwing shit part, or the screaming through the walls bit?"

As frayed as his nerves were, Sanzo had to commend himself for not blowing the idiot's brains out on the spot. Hardening his glare, he said nothing but sat rigidly, wondering what the hell was taking Hakkai so long to join them. Normally they would have been off and on their way before Sanzo and Gojyo had the opportunity to rip into each other.

Then, as though realizing he had just been thought about, Hakkai appeared; not from the hallway leading to the stairs, but from the corridor leading outside. His expression was cheerful—too cheerful, considering what had occurred the day before. It made Sanzo want to strangle him, though he wisely refrained.

"Ah, so you two were waiting," Hakkai said, smiling. "I'm so sorry about that. Are we ready?"

Sanzo narrowed his eyes. "Our baggage?"

If anything, Hakkai's smile grew. It was beginning to give Sanzo the creeps. "Everything we need is outside, in the jeep."

"And the weather?"

"Clear as any other day. Though the ground is wet; we won't be able to avoid a few large puddles here and there."

Yawning, Gojyo stood and languidly stretched, before starting out. "S'long as I can sleep a little longer, who cares?"

"Ah... sleep may be hard to attain today, I'm afraid."

"Huh? Why's that?"

Reluctant to mimic Gojyo in any way, but without having any other choice, Sanzo followed his example and got up to leave. The back of his throat was beginning to itch, and he knew he was going to need a cigarette soon. On occasion, he damned himself for having manners; otherwise, he would have lit up then and there. But he wasn't about to stoop to Gojyo's level of animalism. He withdrew his cigarettes and lighter, but refrained from smoking.

Once he stepped outside, he forgot all about the urge.

Gojyo was staring. "I'll be damned..." Hakkai merely lowered his head slightly, as though to hide his smile.

Sitting in the back seat of the jeep, his knees curled up to his chest, Goku was clearly becoming uncomfortable with all the scrutiny. He quickly looked off to the side, his expression sullen even as his relaxed posture indicated he wasn't there by force.

In a low tone, Hakkai answered the question Sanzo hadn't asked. "I still haven't gathered what made him do it, but apparently he's changed his mind."

Sanzo could think of nothing to say. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how he looked at it) Gojyo could. And the redhead did, as he strode over to the vehicle.

"Well, hell. You better not wake me up. Move over, brat."

Goku made an indignant noise, followed by an outraged squeak as Gojyo shoved him to the side and stretched his legs.

"Ahh. Much better."

Goku retaliated by kicking his legs.

"Ow!" Gojyo growled. "You little shit! You're really asking for it!" Goku made a rude gesture that clearly invited the man to bring it on. Before Sanzo knew it, he was witnessing the most childish fist-fight he had ever seen, complete with Gojyo insulting the boy and Goku kicking the man repeatedly in the shins.

Hakkai chuckled. "It certainly sounds lively."

Pressing two fingers to his temple, Sanzo muttered, "It sounds _annoying_."

"Perhaps," Hakkai said. "But this is what you were asked to do, wasn't it?"

Unsure of how to answer that, Sanzo was saved when the fight took a turn for the worse. Gojyo had somehow gotten Goku half-bent out of the vehicle, while the boy kicked and flailed wildly at him, uttering strange incomprehensible noises. Then, without warning, they seemed to slip and Goku went crashing head-first into the muddy ground. Silence settled over the group; Gojyo looking guilty yet unsure of what to do, and Goku appearing quietly stunned.

Sanzo reacted by walking up to the two, delivering both sharp smacks with his fan.

"For the sake of your idiotic and unimportant lives, will you two _shut up and knock it off!_"

Goku immediately scrambled into a sitting position, mud and dirt streaking his indignant expression. He looked up to Gojyo for help—and to Sanzo's surprise, the man responded.

"Well, _hell_." Gojyo reached down, grasping Goku's forearm. Visibly startled, Goku gripped back so Gojyo could pull him up. "He likes hittin' you too, huh? Guess that makes us allies against Lord Stick up His Ass, hm?"

At the mention of allies, Goku deflated, before abruptly brightening. He nodded quickly, scrambling into the back of the jeep again. Gojyo smirked as though he'd won and settled back into his usual position—albeit with his legs drawn to his own side of the vehicle.

Sanzo had yet to say anything.

"Well?" Hakkai asked, his voice a notch gentler. "Shall we go? If I recall correctly, you wanted to get to India as quickly as possible."

Nodding, Sanzo allowed the blind man to venture forth first, seeking out his usual front seat. The jeep made noises akin to Goku's, though it was because Hakuryuu was a creature, not a person struck mute. Hakkai stroked the dashboard, smiling and murmuring words Sanzo couldn't hear. Perhaps comfort.

Sanzo slipped his cigarettes and lighter back into his robes. Before he withdrew his hands, the tips of his fingers grazed the rough edges of paper—and it was not his usual newspaper; nor his fan, nor the Maten scripture.

"Sanzo?"

Muttering a soft curse, he strode to the driver's side and took his seat, starting the engine. Really, there was no hurry to go west; at least, not as much of one. They had thrice the weaponry now: Son Goku, his Maten scripture... and, at last, his master's Seiten scripture.

For the first time since Koumyou Sanzo had died, Genjo Sanzo finally felt as though he had the upper hand.

: the end :


End file.
